78: Ash
The dark red cloth burns to ash as my rage grows stronger with every stride.
It doesn't matter; Nothing matters. After all, what more are people than just discarded trash waiting to die? They don't matter; Nothing does.
Life is like a twisted game; no one wins in the end. In the end, you or someone else will just be left behind.
The ashes blow away in the wind, lost forever.
In the end, it doesn't matter.
Everything here will be ash when I'm done, left to blow away in the wind and be forgotten.