Do weak people ever rise underneath a mass of wires? In the entanglement of data i try to fly. They say when you wish upon a star the star you looked at is already dead so your dreams vanish the moment those stars give their light.
Fragile is the balance of celestial hearts torn asunder by lustful gains and desireful midnight starts. Startled are the deers of march startled as a dewdrop kitten by robotic arms torn apart.
In the wires i am a dim reflection of who i am expected to be in the wires i am slowly leaving, the light giving out not even in any spectrum of emotion. Not even apathy's glib light excreted upon the creators privy.
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