Ever so changing, like the twinkle in the sky; Ever so slightly, time flutters by
Your campfire stories and your starlit songs, drag me in to a dream
A dream conceptualized by you.

Once every night, I'll close my eyes; Once every blink, a realm of life
Your lore and my mind, create this dream
A world woven by me.

Never twice, do those stories stay the same; Never twice do they say the same thing
Like the flakes of snow, whiter than white
Dwarf those seven seas.

En Route rather than a Journey To You. Her Guardian Angel, through Rebirth's Reflection. A Fraction of what Silence was or what Drafts and Dreams could truly be.

For it would be a book, your lyre of lies.

Deceiving me, time and time again for hope could never bring the thought; of simply what you were, a conundrum of words, never a clear message.

A mishmash of random thoughts.

So let me ask you, weaver of lies. Does what you truly want, the characters demise? Because as you believe the world may not be. This may just be another dream.

Cause En Route to you would be a Journey To(o tough for) You. The same route, save the end. Caught on the front lines of communication misinformed. A Reflection of Her Guardian Angel, who lies to himself that he is, in solemn Silence to his own shattered Reflection.

Because Rebirth only happens once and it's reincarnation the second time. Just as someone's Drafts and Dreams would be just reiterations of its predecessors but ever so slightly different.

So as I weave the story and spin the wheel, the web on the spindle of your mind is yours to fight back. Tell me if I'm too rough or if the tapestry I'm making is too much. I'm yours. And you're mine. Together, weaving the very line; of a story that no one wanted to know.

But a journey on which you're raring to know.

You just haven't processed it and don't know.

And so
on with the show,
go.