In a crimson day dream , nothing is what it seems. These people are not persons .They are to too mindless, too wondering. Forever grasping for some long forgotten memory. Something that might somehow cleanse A stricken soul. All the living time combined will never be enough ,all the money , the power will never fill this void as we speak we are suffocating .
I can no longer waste what sanity is left here. I have given up on the cure. Learned to live in the pain , and I will die young never understanding, never truly being free. Its is ok though there is peace here. I have done more then most. And when the gates open in receiving , I will be sure it is my hand that made my fate