Ocean

Her name, gender, And all that defined her identity was lost in an unknown secrecy. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° A blue path just in front of her gaze forced her to step into an embarking adventure she wasn't familiar with. Inner criticism and body signals of her own told her that it was not over. The blue skies danced together with flattering birds lending on oak trees in the deeper forest enclosing her thoughts. Hoping her imagination will transform the realm she has been thinking about. She has now become more hopeful, time after time, before wearing a crimson mask of her being. The glittering Bailey: The monarch of beauty which has been intoxicating for a long haul. Breaking walls into kills and breaking tides with bonds. As for a man's l**t, don't even think about it. Intentionally brought out without knowing who's looking. White pale fantasy developed into thoughts. Enchanting life of dry wood branches hugging purple birds together with grassed nests. Ravens owning black wedding tales walking down the white isle of the sky. Shaded in pale black and creams of white. You glimpse in your imagination a glimmering, diced pattern sneaking through the gates of death and tombstones in the arms to blister in. A vague track occupied by dense shrubs and towers of cedars in the land. Just as a total disguise of a majestic skyscraper, gleaming for the sake of an empire building. The lustful greenery is accentuated by loud and silent colors of flowerage. Ancient forms of beautified contrast were indeed against modern architecture. Still embracing The towering structure The uniqueness of the unforeseen. Emotions of fear and fright filled the upper room, in which we called for its existence from the hiding place. "Such a disgrace of a child! Paxton, come here right away. Do you even get a chance to listen? Always busy, lord knows what you have been doing in my house." Scolding at him for no reason. "Paxton - Paxton, come - come, right away - way!" These pampering thoughts ruled the mind of Bailey with no idea of the place of thought's origin. But from their sound and declaration, they seemed to have a familiar cottage of DNA. Truth be told, Bailey didn't expect that coming. Firstly, the critics didn't make sense. Wait... What if it was a visit to a past being in her thoughts? Or was someone whispering behind her ear? Yet in the room, no homophobia was sported. The surroundings were not friends with Bailey. Dusty tide spider webs on buckskin walls. The dry air thickened by the swarms of buzzing flies, their incessant hum intentionally filling their ears, and the pursuit of dreams introduced shuttered dreams. Imagine your everyday threat as your playroom