She walked the streets of London. Death followed.
Her family were dead, her friends gone. The life around her dying.
No one wanted to know, no one knew her fight to stay alive, no one understood that this was lonliness, not one soul in the world. No one.
Her world was a waste land, flowers wilting in the winter air, dying for a season or two. Homes, locked up for a night, gone.
And there she was dying. In the streets of London. Dying. Alone.
As she lay down to sleep it was then that she decided it would be winter that took her too... so she lay there in the deathly cold, dying, then gone.
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