Once every full moon there is a someone who has nowhere to go but always find a way back home. Church is in the mist of the field of game for they whoever they is will be lifted with just a voice of signs and tells. Everyone laughs but a joke is real but its better than being sad so smile at whatever even when you dont understand. Fog is all thee see and no one to say or yell down the street but still we walk not knowing what will see but will hear someone or something before you see what the hell it is. Danger is safe hard is soft they're upstairs alone in a loft. People or beast whoever please can someone speak for i been all alone and i haven't yet heard anyone or anything talk to me not even a squeak. Who goes there two twigs spread and now a tree that conceived fruits and berries where no one
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