a siren from somewhere floats through the wood of your door-- you break down, you offer a prayer, a prayer to the feeling you get that collects like the dust in the corners it's all around you.
"whose footsteps are these and why do they stop at my door? a shadow behind me, i swear that i've seen him before"
"leave me alone i already told you all that i know won't you leave me alone why did you come here why can't you find your way--"
home isn't safe but you can't run now that would be suicide they can't not know, they can't know, you don't know but this isn't right
a moment's conclusion floats through a premise of blood, proud and dissonant... here in the feeling you get that forgets to give warning before it comes to the dead and the innocent, in symbols it's:
"whose hands are these and why do they stare in such mad intent? why can't i just be that little boy lost in the crowd again?"
"leave me alone i already did, more than they could have done leave me alone but where did she come from? no-one was supposed to be--"
home isn't there unless the man who once lived there is still alive you don't not know, you don't know, all you know is this isn't right.