A land full of sick.
One discrete statement could perch you in an open spot.
But don't fret, it's never as horrid as it's made out to be.
That's the thing about reality, it's never real.
I've come to notice things don't feel so different there, always a sense of nostalgia in the air.
You'd never anticipate such morbid beings would feel so close to every perception you've experienced.
We stumble through it all and it's never a coffee withdrawl that causes the shake but we can pretend we're just deprived of an innocent substance.
Blissful laughter fills these tragedies as if we are living unconditionally.
We will not break if you speak, though many people believe we are weak.
But we are stronger for not believing we are worthy to fight.
They know why I am not capable of walking in a straight line, they aren't either.
A land full of waves, manic breathes, gulps of air, because our minds have been suffocating for so long that our souls have gave out but our guard has been ripped from our feet leaving us unprotected and we need a land of dew grass to help us revive what we have lost.
A land full of sick is a land full of life.
