Upon staring up at the face of whatever has bested the little thread of willpower one could muster, there is only the soft and subtle subjugation of dark raindrops of a quiet night to finish off with one's last smidge of courage and hope. Hang on to the ground, but push the earth away enough to survive being drained down. Hold on to the little life you have left and believe that it shall one day regain vigor, just so life can be washed away all over again, because the sweet release of death is too good for sinners and preachers.
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