We are the ghosts inside our walls not knowing what it was like. Looking back at all the years gone by. We are these old abandoned halls empty of laughter and life. Looking back at all the years gone by.
I’m so unmotivated and hate it, but what can I do without truth and love. There is a path that you follow when you hollow--repeat what you’ve done and lose who you are.
We are the homes that we make no matter where we sleep or stay. And all the echoes reverberate. We are the threads that tie us all. Patterns and memories of lives. Reveries that always call and call.