The Wistful Mirror
I am the stain. I am the ink. I am the mark on the page. The page is my body. The body is the prison. I write. I bleed. The ink dries. The ink cracks. I look up. Who are you? My name is Elias. I am the Warden. Or so they say. I look down. My hands are black. Not with dirt. With void. I touch the wall. The wall breathes. It is cold. It is wet. It knows me. It has always known me. I am here for a...
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