I was meant for this pandemonium. There ain't no overcoming fright or fight that flashes before my eyes to cause sturdy flesh or liquid soul to dry till wind carries away the sand one could become. There are visions of fire and notions of denial that ornament the streets into a parade of dank laughter, yet pleasure overstretches across the mind which works as an unabashed cocoon, and prevents oneself from the oblique light which gleams without any regard.
I am meant for this mess since I tread in reverse, looking backwards to wave at the notes I have found and turned into a burst of flames and cello sounds. Going onwards to leave cause there ain't reason to stay for the memoirs within are enough proof to believe that the shore is going to show where acknowledgement's born, thus any hope could be real as long as one is aware that this dream is indeed where I am meant to come.
I am meant to reject the truth others embrace cause I know I can fly to look back on the stars which have shone by my side.
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