Oblivion

This oblivion. Sometimes it is good.
Many times, like now, it is killing
Like it were alive.
Stabbing and jeering at us. As if we have been enemies since centuries

 

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What Does One Do?

What does one do when nothing he feels can find words?

When the agony and pain are filled up and find no outlet?

The sheer helplessness of not finding the right words, the right people, the circumstances!

What does one do? Where does one go to scream? How does one let out all this pain? This emotion? This helplessness?

What does one do?