To be given upon the sweet lament of beauties lips, to be defined by which shadowed beings find misery and remain unseen. A rose petal falls of which its blood-stained thorns release tears of a past memory, though to be remembered would truly be a gift from gods of gold...but shall i be forgotten by the crying sky of gray and white? No, this would be impossible, for after all...this is MY dream...isn't it, or perhaps, though a small chance, perhaps i lie in a strangers land of imagination untouched by realities soft hand.
Watch as heaven rains down upon mothers being and like an owners dog gone mad releases all of hell's ideals upon humanity. so why? Why does this seem unrealistic given all of the evidence that reality has come as a guest in a home of absolute divinity? Reach into me past the idea of my my mundane form and into the depth of a lost soul yet to be rid of its shadows and save the remnants of hope, for without hope i am just there, another human put through trials only to fail and be mocked by those who sit upon thrones of fortune. Kings and Queens bathe in rivers of coin to only make a dying attempt to mask the shame accompanied by the guilt of how rich goods came to be. The blood stains these gold coins changing them to a dark shade of red and black.
The scene shifts. I am now sit upon a small lily pad and i am no bigger than a thumbnail. Water of silver, blue, and green makes its presence known and washes over me drowning me in a sick twist of emotion and deprives me of air to breathe and i suffocate and forsake my skin as i travel to lands unknown and make my way towards a door of purity . I can see it, it hovers over me just out of arm's length though to reach for it would mean letting go of the line of memory that binds me to this life and forsaking it to live again in a new body...but...i can't. Realization sets in and the door vanishes leaving me in the arms of regret as they hold me captive in chains and hold me prisoner.
Though to be given another chance of life would be a blessing within itself, but...it would be stolen. A life given to you is a gift though a life taken and lived was never truly yours to live, but death stands humbly accepting those who seek him, taking death then...was always your to take. In the end of this tale i stand between the shallow pond of life and death only to find eternal peace
within my spiritual being. Existing and to never have existed in the first place, i am...human
