I just want to die, to die, to die. And float upwards into the sky. Is that what happens when you die?
This isn’t our world, is it? This isn’t even our dream. This isn’t our sleep.
This isn’t who we are. These aren’t our lies. These aren’t our lives. Someone dreamt this all up. We don’t belong here. To this. This isn’t our world. We’re not part of this.
We’re lost in someone’s dream. Not our dream. We’re lost in what someone wants for us. Someone wicked.
Work in Progress 