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Useless Things

It’s amazing how much people need to be needed.

When a person’s usefulness is brutally stripped away, it almost hurts to exist.

It does hurt.

Eyes with no owner watch with derision and mock every step made.

No use to themselves, no use to anyone else…empty. Inside.

Mask kept up to keep those too close from realising.

It hurts more that it works than that it doesn’t.

Better alone.

Useless things are always alone.

Nobody and nothing can fill the void within, can make work something long since broke.

Nobody tries.

Faceless ones crowd, air sucked into their more deserving lungs than the lungs inside of the useless thing stumbling, crawling, limping, lurching, through the shadow where light used to pass.

There is no light. No light and no air.

No movement.

Useless things have no need to move, useless things have no need of light, useless things have no need of air.

Useless things aren’t needed.

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