You say that we are silence. The tranquility that has its own defiance mechanisms. The tactile souls of midnight that scream too loud. They speak utterances of jumbled supernatural langauge. Words and phrases unknown by many insiders. The flock of sheep that always sleep together. They do not see or hear the secret unwritten expressions, that we make. So they all hide within the light of their own ignorance. Instead of biting the bullet of being different. They cling onto what is so illusory. They all do not have any Gothic vision, at all. And because they can't see the truth, like we do. They make a mockery show of their own stupidity. Society dare not question the truth. We are still tactile otherworldly beings, from unformed galaxies.
Sir Markus Furiae.
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