To think life is a winning statement of unconsciousness against conscious existence in its very human appearance, the one and only, I presently deem myself the shadow swaying absently back and forth inside your head much as a skeleton in a closet moving rhythmically to the melody of a plethora of secrets, there is no aura in my destiny, no taste in my fears though I cry in plain tears.What am I?
Oh God! The only God breathes underwater so far-flung from the herd of conscious beings walking upon the veil of waves. On the face of it safe even so not saved. I, buried since you were born, breathe in a fairytale where the queen of desires lets out a wail for you in a deathmatch of reason and emotion. I am not remembered nor am I reflected on yet the only world I have ever seen is your head. What am I?
