The answer of lies was done with song.
A true life story, he in recent years, forms from personal to conventional. Flashbacks untouched inside from afar. We're still in the early stages. What did you see? How did you feel? What was happening inside you? We've come a long way for meaning and truth that requires hard understanding. Seeks to shed light equally, it doesn't matter, actual or imagined. Us alike develop any truth.
I'm just a reflection, a spirit, of someone else casted as a shadow upon which I follow you through the daylight and separate from you at night.
"Secret" It's much more to him. Simple, after all. We see words inside of a stomach that can turn into art. Think for a moment of beauty to feelings. Starry skies of far horizons, among ebullience sea.
Rather than showing, his eyes tell pain and we suffer with him...
What shows beyond all, is will. We look at the stone, written of labels. We see a kindred spirit. The origin. The life. The treasure of the ancient stories. Yet beyond will is the way for us. Whether I grasp him, whether I can live through weak skin to such extent an alter-ego. One way over the worry...getting inside and looking out. He couldn't find her. Silently I have lost these internal feelings and the stone through weakness.
Light his cigarette, under him and around him.
She didn't like being alone.
Find the strength to carry on through the chaos of love.
We think in ways where a measure of where we've been, will add a measure of where we will be. Starting this reality, all forward and back, seventeen might be among most. Because in style, years from now, carries flaws. If our stories use time, a world-creator can write his winning battle. Write the story, eighteen in style yet harnessed.
Writing, means of the flashback, expand on the past. See how talk confines the pain and discomfort everyday near the end. The chance he's never seen came to me. Down at my face, wanting you for some time, your accident was the call. Three months before October one morning stopped the conversation about the incident. Into the flashback farther, time leads to back then. See how we have a place for the story to continue, imagine if we leave time and begin on the high. We'd drift. Questions arise in time, we proceed. Leaving, we go, you I heard say "remember me not!" We ended up in a big argument. With a different past, an argument, I had ignored him-flashbacks.
It's the image we place in the mind to develop. A few stars, the moon, looking we saw faint clouds, that's all there was. Air shimmered with velvet music.
