Mirage

The underlining of the blanket, and the chirping of birds hold no existence. When one is as frail, they understand. Seeing with blind eyes that continue to shatter, unaware that truth unearths the shadowy values of immobilizing lies. So intense that it continues to become the slithering waverin of melodic lust. Intertwined with vigor so fierce it decimates the belief of reality. Thus we continue our voyage of ignorance, and find ourselves washed upon the shores of dismay. Disoriented, and disposed of, this is the major plot. To a world misled by many lives that continue the dreadful act of tyranny. Portrayed only by heresy and engulfed by hypocrisy, do we see fit.

Although the Bards dance, they do not believe. Inscrutable joy received upon arrival to only decide fates triangle of justification, we all weep tears.

Pestilence

So we dance the dance of many. Unrealistic to the ideals of social society. So intense and immune to human nature. That of which we relinquish time itself only to establish a greater sense of being. Becoming complete with every unmistakable turn into an abyss of atrocity. Feeding the youth's take over scheme.

Yet, extermination is imminent.

Within these pages begins a world. Derived from the catacombs of the inner mastermind. Depiction of a foul entity. To be outlined in bold.

That is self reliance//.

.. as we dance the dance of many, we are beheaded.