The plastic bag in a clouded haze begins to melt beneath a twisted gaze and the sapphires in the sky lose their grip and slowly now begin to drip past the lonely tree that glistens shining brightly yet no one listens and the grass it wildly cries for everything in life that dies. But how do you explain death to someone muttering darkly under their breath? You must pass through Hell to get to Heaven and the beauty, it will always beckon but your memories will not forgive or hide the monsters that in your brain live; in assurance now we find our names and hope someday we’ll be the same.