• There’s this place. The one you can runaway and have no worries. The one that washes away all your formidable and regrets out of your bloody nightmare. Yet, despite this fantasy, a monster lurks inside yourself. A beast pleading to be free. One spiteful mistake can turn into a living hell. Even light pure as gold can’t over seize this monster but they still dance in the light blue sky nimbly, they move flawlessly. The people do not seem to think other wise . Only the feeling that their nightmares are over. But wrong they are. Their demons slowly devour the light inside of them into darkness. Each heavenly movement of rhythm slowly turns into death. Even a wise man could not over see this unaware asphyxiation of weakness. A perfect world we wish and dream for. but what extent is perfection? We try so hard just to dig ourselves a bigger hole to refill. By the time death draws near, we have already dug ourselves our own grave.