all fall down.
there are ashes everywhere, and the sky is mauvey browny orangepink. it doesn't smell like fire, but i know its there, its made it so i can't see the sun. or the moon. no points of reference. just the ashes. things that were once on the ground have been melted into the air, and now they're falling back to the ground again.
sometimes metaphors aren't very sly at all.
sometimes metaphors aren't very sly at all.
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