Photo by benjamin lehman on Unsplash
Baby, we were doomed from the start.
A head on car crash.
No brakes to stop the inevitable.
No tread left on the tires, going a 100 miles per hour down a dead end street. Nightmares and sweet dreams colliding.
No parachute.
No safety net.
You had cut the strings.
If you die, I go with you.
Irrevocable choices.
Permanent consequences.
Cruel, precarious fate.
The keys were never mine but always yours. Scythe or blow?
It’s too late. You’re already a corpse. Dead on the inside.
Zombie.
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