Despair The iron kettle rang on the stove, sending whistles through my ear. In the whistle went through my left ear and came out of my right. Nothing stopped it. My mind is empty. Memories so fond of mine used to taunt me for hours, teasing me of what once was and what shall never be again. No one knows who I really am or how I became in this state, all they know is I am lost in a distant place and can't escape from the walls which are keeping me isolated. They call my name over and over, but I am no longer Hope, I am quite the opposite, I am Despair.
linda
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