The endless pier

When I wash up on the shores of eternity and gaze out on the bleeding sunset I'll smile a toothy grin and laugh to myself. For in the end nothing mattered, time a circle and space a cruel joke. Our reality painted in a shade of crimson. The lives lived in vain, the facade that we were; a canvas for the accursed gods to string out our misery. And yet, through everything we lap it up like dogs, an ugly truth, a pyre upon which my rotted corpse will burn.

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