Sanity: a Broken Mirror's Tale.
Bastille, bestoweth such a death as one like the identity...
To and from the gathered thoughts caressed by a whim.
Does one exist parallel to I? Besides a forwarded line, divide.
Shall I sing thy name,
To escape, to ignore those worries on thine windowpane?
Reminisce all the nights you held me with words of woe, a voice so kind it scares me so-- that I might never know it again.
Gathered by the lonesome time of strangers, love is reborn knowing my hand will not go un-held, forevermore...
Not oceans away, but a fate nevertheless forwarded.
By God's power... Will I ever see you again?
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Here by luck with my endowed crest and touch, a blended spell of binding words, these are stories, this is life.
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