District11

I can reach, I can reach and reach and never achieve. Too many dark hands pulling back. I use to float above it all. I can see others do it. They've climed out of this pit of black. They've escaped, they are free. Some just never fell in. Others have painted a hole on the floor and pretended they're out, ignoring the demon hands as they claw and rip at the flesh, the muscle, black blood spilling. Some sit and accept it as they are shredded. Those are the ones who are lost. They end up in hospitals indefinitely, or splattered on pavement, or their brains found blown back onto the wall behind, or sprawled in a pool of their own red, red blood i