The Hollow Room
Nothing feeds me. Nothing gives me strength. Even hope, when it comes, arrives weak and flickering, only to be swallowed by the dark before it can warm me. The world asks me to keep going, yet offers no reason why.
Nothing feeds me. Nothing gives me strength. Even hope, when it comes, arrives weak and flickering, only to be swallowed by the dark before it can warm me. The world asks me to keep going, yet offers no reason why.