Don't we all have a special place? Don't we all belong? Well... Where, or rather... How?
Ever heard the sound of weath blown by the wind? Its gloden locks tangled in music. There I lay, along with the bloody drops of poppy, scattered on the field like wounds on a godly skin. It feels neverending, though the blanket of grains is cornered by a forest. It seems so dark and deep... Deeper than the toughts that hunt me, deeper than eternity...? The music of the wind enchants, mesmerises, but soon, its sweet notes break by the sound of rain.
Above, the cosy clouds change and Heaven's anger makes them dance. Thier gloomy look pushes the cold inside air, earth, flesh... The cold drops meet eachother till it's pouring down.
'Should I go?'
'No.'
Gods' sword send me their power... Thunder crashes my day-dream. 'Maybe I should get going...'
Go where? Or rather, when?
