It's March Tomorrow, can you believe that? It's ... already here.
Now, I don't want it to come. I need more time.
I need more time.
But, I always need more time. Don't I?
Rising from the grave,
a phoenix from the ashes,
I've come to question why.
Why did it take me so long?
Why did it hurt so much?
Why wasn't anyone here?
And in asking the question,
I am once more dead.
Without freedom, what is life?
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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