We're All Lost

In a single moment it hit me with full force- that truly, I don’t have control over this, and I really never have. With all my valiant effort to suffer through, to make it to the end where cures weave their fingers through the hands of combat.. denial can only really get you so far. Now I wear hieroglyphic scars and bask in labyrinths of enigma, while leather- the complex fabric of aging souls- is used to isolate and protect; hold skin tight, keeping it all in.

We are lost, carrying torn map pieces that lead to a place that all of mankind has questioned existing, so with destinations unknown, we wander aimlessly trying to match hearts & torn map shards.