Another phantom with innocence plastered on my back and stolen.

Such an unexceptional story reeking of a million grieving families, wondering why their children never loved or played with fire, but chose to be burned with it. How strange we should blur our lines in attempts to distinguish ourselves only to become kaleidoscopes of alcohol and echoes, news segments with dead bodies for resolutions…

And this? This is the casket we’ve thrown ourselves into.