#kimato

Been reminiscing of times long past. The ugly, the bad, and the good All run around my mind, in that order. Thoughts of good things to come make Me feel anxious but also glad. Glad Make me feel the memories as well, and I Struggle not to remember too hard. The Times are long past but the feelings tend to Still be there, still remain a part of you.They remind me that good times do occur, but my impatience tells me it's better to Return, to give up on what can be and Just focus on what once was. The memories, They are good and keep me warm. They Keep me cozy and put a smile on my face, But I have to remember not to get Swallowed up by them. It's nice to spend Some time in the past, but I can't let myself get stuck in it. As much as it hurts to do, Sometimes you just have to put a fork In the memories; they're done and you Should be done, too.

A strict antithesis to the masses amassing in protest, progress for the oppressed leads to revolt. We see (all evil). Human lives never seem to reign supreme over the battle scene. In battlefields, they rarely feel but pain and morphine, coursing through their veins like bullets -through the- -wounded- The night shines with glowflies, but you pay them no mind, you pay them no mind you pay them no mind

So, I'll be setting up a queue with content that I have come across and found useful. Some of it will appear in this novel, some will appear in a sequel, and some may or may not be used. Have fun looking through the reference materials I'll be using.

I heard you were the Kind of person to both Write and fight, right? Well, I issue you a Written challenge! Dare you to write Your thoughts in stone? To utter curses powerful Enough to echo and bring Down Rome and make it Crumble? Or will you sit In silence and be humble In spite of all the hate And violence that made You stumble? You were part of the Prototype Tiananmen In which the tank Was the horseman of Famine and it’s fun To imagine how much Different life would be If you and Rosa Parks Were still alive to see The atrocities of our Own kind. You’d probably start to Wonder where to draw A line now that the frontier is gone. I apologize. We obviously Didn’t stop to listen Enough times to show That we care and would be There to help our Fellow man. So tell me Lorca, I wish to know: Is this the world You fought so hard To stop, or the one That stopped you When you fought?

THE END.

The stakes will continue to increase from here on in, everyone. So wish me some luck in writing it!

We walk around, sipping our morning coffee as we go on with our day. The sun shines, children play, dogs bark, and we head to work. We type furiously our keys, exhausted and seeking to de-stress by talking to the fellow employees. We laugh and tell stories. Parents are being annoying, and our bosses never let up. Our hearts are broken either on park benches on a warm, spring night, or between the lines of our latest reading assignments or guilty pleasures. We stay up late nights, cramming for exams or bonding with friends as we play games and tell dumb jokes. This is that special period in time of peace. The one where we never utter that we are at war, to preserve our sense of peace.

I've always wanted for it to be unexpected to leave no trace behind on my longest walk but I don't think it will ever be possible even as I plan it out, choose a normal, sunny day to contrast the sharp irony to pretend like everything is fine until that final moment but I know that I'll leave some tasks unfinished and then, only then, when they look at every step taken in that day, they'll see it they'll see every little thing add up, and they'll regret having missed the signs I am no deus ex machina I cannot just vanish into thin air, and expect them to ignore it, like they did before I truly became invisible