isolation
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There’s a certain kind of person who ends up on the edge of the world with a light in their hands.Not because they were chosen.Not because they volunteered.But because the world kept pulling them upward until the ground fell away and the view widened. Up here, you see everything.The patterns.The cycles.The same mistakes in different…
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Somewhere in the night, under a flickering neon sign that hums like a dying prayer, the answer waits.It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t wave you in.It just glows—cold, patient, and already knowing you won’t listen. There are no friends on these streets.Only hands that reach out to take,eyes that scan for weakness,souls too cracked to hold…
