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Locke
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Not all who are sighted can see.
Not every lie is true
In fact, I did enjoy their screams. They weren't people no more, that was the demon leaving the body. Painful and screaming like a banshee . Those screams always brought me joy.
All Forgotten Things Are Inside Us.
A File of chapters, in a book, in the mind of a child, living inside a suitcase.
I first saw him as a child. To me, it was like a light in a dark place. And it took me away from here if only for a moment. Sometimes felt like years to me. But it was long enough for me to know there was more to me as a person. There was purpose to my life. The light showed me that. Over and over and over.
From a raven to a crow. One begs to be lesser known. From bud to green to fallen from the tree. Admired in its slow death, there is beauty in this. Small things become triumphant in the wake of bliss.
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