the felicity that you harbor
so tightly,
makes it quite obvious, to me,
that even if the shadows were to reach
for you, it would be burnt
by your flames.
you dance with grief, in such a way,
as if the shackles
were made of wood;
easy to chip away.
swear your allegiance to what or whom already has signed your name in the
book of death just to appease a small audience & in return, a pocket full of gold & a selfish conviction that would, later on, leave their hearts bamboozled.
if you want to keep a secret between two or more people, one(or a few) has to die/suffer.
if death is difficult to accomplish by one, then by all means, a team effort is easier — it's silent and slow, but it's a job guaranteed to happen. majority of bishops have vanished -
you have those who take delight to most battles and the laughter of human decay...
they are the ones who have the best seating arrangement in the arena.
place your bets & prepare yourself for endless excitement.
i now understand, as i'm
looking out the window, what Liesel
meant when she said;
"outside looks like a pale day & the sun looks like a silver oyster trapped behind a cloud."
such a genius way to describe
an ordinary day.