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I used to holdthe seconds after the strike, waiting for the roll of thunder But the storms vanished the uish and wrath tore me from my life

Now, I’m his captive

A way out always exists

Onlyit’s the way in that h the eyes I must’ve heard that in school once before, too

He watches through ice-blue stained glass

How does he see me?

How do I appear out of context?

Like the cellar door that conceals our secrets, if I repeat the truth enough, reciting it over and over, it losesan obscure and distant version of our reality

There isto where the bones of our darkest secrets haunt We all have a cellar door of our own design

My door is made of bone and ash

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The Moment Before