I put my hand up to a mirror.
And I shook my own hand standing still. I felt the forces enter though the portal. As I exchanged my soul for relief little did I know that I cannot give what is not mine.
And they can't take what isn't theirs.
My soul belongs to something greater than relief. My heart belongs to a love greater than I understand. My love is not love at all.
My dreams live haunted appraisals of the earth as I take inventory. I'm the grim reaper. But I'm fully alive.
We are nothing but broken soldiers waiting in the trenches for the battle to resume. Or has it started?
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