it's just a burning memory

Why was I the one?

Why had it been this way?

Weren't they taken care of?

The wind blew ever so slightly and the grass stood higher than the day before. I noticed those small, quiet details of which none person was too severely knocked out of the perimeter of "normal".

My dreams were only about the oncoming day, if I hadn't slept, It'd just be voices reminding me how alone, how much of a memory life had actually felt. No one had thought of life this way.

This song, burned into my grasp of memory, played as I watched an uncountable number of citizens drop dead. No one believed it to be true, as I said, this memory was engraved into a deck of cards along with judgment and fortune. It was greatly appreciated that I had this, I had to be the savior.

It all was expected by the government. To perform such an act of communism was indeed perishing. Along with others who wanted to break free from such a form of abuse, I agreed.