I walked a spiraling staircase to seemingly nowhere.
Sharp whispers, then silence, the pages consume me.
I knocked on your door for hours, hands cold, an empty barn.
In every angel, a demon hides.
The smell of smoke, bridges burning, keeping us apart.
Smoke rises.
Walls thick and high.
Somewhere we once went together, I followed your trail that led to the woods.
A never ending spiral in an empty room.
Pages, pictures and words.
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