A BRIEF HISTORY
swear, life didn't start out this way. I swear that I haven't always roared against myself like a man, mad at his own mind. At least I think it didn’t.
I’d like to imagine that there was a time before writing about the world, in a corner of a room. I’d like to remember a life before this moment, which is like a thousand other ones before it.
It’s seven pm, ‘bout the time the sun starts to doze off. The cool-brunette air dances with the window’s sheer dress. A prodding reminder that today’s song is near over, that another day is near dead. That is to say, that all the life in the light is being transferred to the darkness.