It wasn't clear to me about how far our livelihood had come.
We are travelers on a path nobody has a map too.
I listen to the yearnings that pull me to every unmentionable path.
I am alone.
Watching the waves hitting the bottom pits of the ocean.
They are encircled in time when there has been no time but now.
We are living in a breathless fought over universe only we are the only ones at battle.
With ourselves we are the only ones looking for victory when victory has already given into us, time and time again.
We are poor soldiers waiting to go home, awaiting a decision from the leaders we think execute their plans with us in mind and not from their own ambitious winnings.
We were right weren't we, leading a team of masked teenagers into a battle, no one had ideas of winning.
Our paths stained with generational bloodlines.
Our maps colored with veins.
The world was a line and there had been for curves created to save those who were not absolute in the eyes of our leaders.
Claims and taughting of voices made it clear we had no voice or reason to commute the exile pathway.
After everything is said and down we evidently find ourselves at the beginning again, with a clearer frame of mind, understanding what roads to neglect and others to partake in the journey of.
Rumors will be true if you let them live on.
The fictitious character we call time can be reset anytime.
I'm only living a lie when I tell my soul I am fine.
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