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Chapter 119

THE PRINCE’S DIARY,

9, November, 1999

The end is walking slowly

Crawling blindly in the light

Cradling my head with might

My other self is staring at me through the ghost of a mirror. And I detest myself for seeing her. Yet, I cannot lose her. Her feet are barely touch the floor. Yet she stands so tall I have to crane my neck.

My other self is walking towards me, about to crown my head with thorns of pain and beauty.

Beauty through the pain, My other self is staring at me through a broken mirror.

Mirror of my broken self, mirror of the broken soul

She is screaming, Screaming silently at me for leaving her to decay. Leaving her lost, to burn

To end. The end is walking fast. Moving like the wind

Moving till I can’t see.

Silently gazing at the way the wind rushes towards the water. The sunset, drinking in the beauty of the sky. Beautiful. Amazing. Wonderful. Your heart is dancing at the triumph against sadness. And it’s quietened down the wailings. The bones of your form are e
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