Songs from the Dead

The latter was still in its sharpening manner as soon as they had released the truth of the war. The illness was alive, eating up people before it will be too late. “So it’s true? What they claim?” He asks me in the least meaningful way through these events, has disregard these people so inside the scratching cages of something criminal as we here gathering vast lost records, waiting. Willing, treading waters so fast we cannot indeed occur through this tenfold of three elements so disregarded we can still see the lions within our dying truth but because of the war the illness lead astray the enclosures we had always beguiled the monsters encasing the souls ever more lightly with the desire towards imperfect insanity at the brime of a lightening rod that no one sees coming. “No one obviously knows. “I don’t indeed know much to add of this simplistic faith.”  I tell him, trying not to sound too coy and lame but resilient.  We were sipping on our cups of hot coffee, passing cigs around a warm campfire. “You’re telling me you don’t indeed now?” He asks me, surprised before these matters have been withstanding into the only opening of something so we cannot gain nasty people as sorted as of a simple quest right now.  This illness, it’s disruptive a plain disease who holds everyone of the stars in the universe relinquishing those thoughts of your past lives but nevertheless keeps you holding here because of your encased glass cage we were still trapped in beside the one thing has us into the third century before the time occurs again to witness our deaths in a premature state. All I can understand and I take a few sips, then gulp the rest of my hot coffee. Now, before I told him upfront what I realize, I was hoping so much he’ll inform me everything I don’t identify. “We don’t now of your lions. The spacial suggestions which you’re proclaiming but now? This cage? What of it?” I look scared from the inside but posed from the womb within. He doesn’t try to understand me, my people can. Why doesn’t he? Was it a cursing of a fluke? Was I being disregarded for something strange until my people wanted to make a fool out of me? I couldn’t figure they’d go far to make me the soundless girl. The one disposed of the factual truth who has me intertwined for something so disrupted we can still tell these things are off guard towards these unsettling things set up at the moment. They’re tracking me. Noticing my every movement.  Before long, I try to tell him the stories had gained with my people. “I shouldn’t tell you the classified things of these things but there’s too many to name to not tell either. I guess I’m better off with my story.” I use my burning throat, ready to hear what he thinks after I say my side of the story, the one everyone will see.  I cackle through the tremendous laugh on the inside at the most precious thing that ever occurred in my recent life that stills my heart. In all her honesty we were what you call, “pre-destined to be together, forever.” I had to think through every detail to allow him to thrill with every distinctive word, definition and aura that I precise the story. Well, I... here goes nothing. Here goes knowing me. Startled, he had waited for me to speak and when I finally spoke it was like a clear sky calling from the heavens above into my head to speak the words, I needed to say. He stares at me, astonished. Confused at how long I took to speak, he thought I had given up on my story. I hadn’t. I’ve given up on myself but now we are still here forever with the thoughts that I couldn’t even with hold any insight of the dead because this is all about the dead. Every single paragraph, indent, line.  Basically already declined, I wanted to see the distant figure of his mind whirring fast with each proclaiming thought I’ll tell him. The time was now. So here’s my center stage, my thoughtless life of something monstrous right where the dead can hear us. Even where my spirit can see us.  Indecisive until the eternal of interlocking of things that has us turning for other things at the pastime of ventures for those with the gift that can still encase inside the cage. “You see the cages. Well, it’s better if i start off with how we think and see of death. The definition, meaning... lifeless. Dirty open wounds that see these clearest of images between the fields of this life and the fields of there enliven lives. That my friend is the definition of death,” There’s more to it than just that but I was hoping, counting and wishing he’ll understand every single breathless encounter we were loosing as each thought was trying to not be recorded between the two of us. Because this is death that we are talking about. “I’m not here to plot even more revenge. I’m just here to tell you my side of this wicked, corrupted story that the world never knew we had. I mean sure, we have had faltering things that I had presumably made up, but it was really the entire time. The friends I made was real only on the inside of my weakest conscious because I was not sure if all the other horrors was ever real” We were long since done with the cigs we were smoking and it made me feel a little lifeless once more. Already having this ability whilst becoming the ghost of my past without the cage into the life that I had once brought back, well, I have proven it. The dead are the least of our problems, it is people that we need to fear. Now we can encounter all the terrible and cruel things that they taught me before obtaining the cage. It was a certain death for a powerful person such as I and then again my only way out was even before they encased the glasses upon the coffin that had always locked upon my sorrowful soul.