Surreal, an Empty chasm.
Darkness with light.
Lighted darkness,
surrounds me.
Devours my skin.
Floating void, uneasy and inescapable.
Voiceless and soundless it seems.
In this known unknown,
Twinklers read the Prophecy.
I am birthed,
source unknown.
Visible, can be seen,
source unknown.
Light up, gleam but not twinkle,
source unknown.
I shall die, conspired by the unknown.
Born again by the unknown.
Untrodden words, silence me.
When Sapiens shall come alive out of
death, disparity, dreams and desolation;
shall I be assassinated in the hands of the unknown.
Infuriated, insulted and inspired;
I behold my Katana and behead.
Falling, drowning, draining in the inescapable.
After every 29 Deathly hollows,
I die, I ****.

Consider everyone as a friend unless they prove to be otherwise
and then we should consider the workings of some compromise.
There are certain mysteries compelling from previous births we’ve had
and what we’re all faced with now is the outcome of them good or bad.
________

Nine months
Of blissful ignorance

Nine months
Of peace

Nine months
Of rest

Nine months
Of safety

Nine months
Of love

Nine months
Without heartbreak

Nine months
Of growth

Nine months... was all we got

What gave the World the right to rob us of so much?