You, Us.

This is what I was feeling at the time, written in a poetic style.


Don't slip away now, when we are at the peak; imperial, beautiful. 

The sadness is hidden 'neath my veil of good humour, laughing; dying. 

But then how could you ever know? This book is bound with iron and leather. It will not open. I will not break. 

God has not left me. He was never with me. Why would I fear that which I believe is tales and lies. 

But you cannot know, and faith comforts and blinds. He blinds you from me. He is as much of a Devil as Lucifer. 

I would beg, Not now! There is so much for us, the world beckons, just as it divides us; New paths form.

Inside rages a storm, devastating, never has there been such tempestuous power. 

On the outside, your me, serenity is a mask. But how could you not see through. Perhaps you do not want to see. No. I fear that I have recoiled from so much, retreated so deep...can I return?

You will slip away soon. Fate, coincidence, your God, has decided. It cannot, will not be prevented, however hard we fight. 

But I will fight nonetheless. Don't slip away now! We are still with the stars, ruling the world; free, careless.

Or so it seems. 

The End

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