  Staring out of the windows,  the ledges seemed to have grown inches old.  The paws of a white lion holds the key to its light,  what makes a hole so deep one could take delight and indulge in mindless fantasies and imagery that sparks a whole new world that struggles to be free from limits that its bound to,
 like crawling as far as one can from arms that surround you,  the desire to never stop desiring,  and pain that ever so often comes in vain.  Making up stories so future generations can feed on,  drift into blackholes where they've entangled themselves,  should this world seek its end,  why should anyone live?  Let you all die,  and do away with history.
