The act, yesterday, buried within, a slice of temptation as I say NO. The evil decide what is an option, who decided that they were evil? Their actions I suppose, suppose I don’t, who judged me first ages ago said the same about me, who holds the truth? Books turn yellow, distress bursts, is memory shallow? I jumped into the river, I drowned, memory is not as shallow as life had initially told me, enact, compile rest the case, whistlers battle alone, their song dissolves in the heaviness of a storm, let the good solve their problems, who decided the good? It was simple. Good was reasonable, now, it’s everywhere even upon evil, the good appears upon an emotion, why are we confused between evil and good? I sit upon a gravestone, every year, upon the same, it reads: You are a feather, always falling upon a thought. If you don’t touch it, it will disappear, if you steal it, it will haunt you to death, look at you… still here. I was still there, mourning the loss of what I thought I had, never had. The act, yesterday, buried within, the more I wanted it, the less I had. I said NO, but stayed there, evil is not an option if you’re not there. If it calls you, walk away, stretch the memory until you can safely say, it is not an unfair judgement but a statement of fact, irredeemable? Perhaps, but emotion is not the rat.