eblup

The dark is yet a miss contorted light traveling without movement shaded by the things that pass through it. And left behind in the dark are the black cracks that travel through our world rummaging for hope, but taped in the contorted shadow by the mood and flow of the feelings that progress and die evrey day. Something that at heart we know is truth, but has no rhyme nor reason. All within the shadows that pass by day by day thus going unnoticed till gone never to be seen in the light.