Life is a puddle of mud, things happen either at the surface or in the deep. The sickness thrives through ones head and into their heart. The spikes of roses roll down their veins scratching along down until there is no more blood to bleed. What happens to you when you die is what happens when you live. Nothing changes the only thing that happens is your heart stops beating and you can't feel the pain that you've carried along the way with a smile. Cause nothing can break you only your own beasts make it so your blood runs more than you can give. Cause that's what you are born to do give until it hurts then when you filter through the pain you give even still no matter the cost. Things happen that's what we tell ourselves forgetting that we are no better than those we protect and give there is no middle ground only caskets with holes to drain out what's left to give even in death.
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