Brevity, Quill


I think we are living in a dystopia. A broken world marred by unspoken fears and secrets. Every spoken word and every action is an illusion. Every feeling is a facade.

Afraid of our shadows, our misdeeds and our misgivings, we take refuge in living a lie. Every day poses an uncertainty. A scarred world, crushed under rebellious feet, stabbed by greed and left to crumble. We put up a front, for acceptance and for love. But after the daylight hides behind dusk and we sit on the couch, the plastic on our face cracks, revealing decay.

We are the living dead.