They are goin to be fine.
That's what you told to yourself in this life, eyes darting to see if it was still there and if their time did not stop. But life is not merciful, nor are you.
As it Wilted, as it Died, as it Floated and you buried them.
And even when their loving faces went to the further shore, your eyes didn't cry, though your mind ran as far as it could, it would never understand what you did. Your thoughts did.
You could have saved them, you noticed the end of the path down hill in front of their walk, you could have saved, you could have investigated, you could have cared for them.
But you decided to do either.
They are going to be fine
Your voice told numerous times, strained from screaming at what was happening, and hating those who you though did nothing.
But you
But you were worse, an useless peasant whose voice did not pass, someone who did anything waiting for change, who waited until the last breath to open your cursed mouth.
Maybe you shouldn't have been born, a blurred mind, an incompressible voice and some tears that would drown yourself aren't enough reason to keep up.
When you reflection stares at yourself you can notice its eyes opening like plates, because a stranger is looking back at them.
An stranger it thought had died
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Recalling memories while i gave a last swept to the house before moving.
