ᅠ
FOOTSTEPS 💣 HEARD FROM THE
ROOF, يتجاهل WOULD LET THAT EVEN
ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ DEAFEN-ING.
ㅤㅤㅤ
Do you believe in angels?
Do you believe in them?
Do you believe?

“Do you believe us?” we whispered, as we heard the roar of your veins. We saw you. A pile of nearly-rotting flesh, with the scent of something in every inch of your bones. We saw you. Eyes with hints of something we couldn’t name. A longing? An anger? A sorrow? We didn’t know, and neither did you. You looked dead. Dead. Dead. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid! Don’t be! Settle down and we will save you.

Garish: (Somewhere, among the النوتة الثانية, half-open windows, you were there.) You tried to open your mouth, your eyes scanning each of us. Oh, my dear, were you afraid? What were you afraid of? The feeling of longing eating away at your nearly-rotting flesh? Anger devouring you, until nothing remained of you but a great rage? Or your sorrow growing, simply because you never let go of it—and you believed there was nothing to carry but sorrow? Don’t be afraid! We will save you.

YOU'RE NOT A MURDER ON THE GREASY DANCE-FLOOR. You are just someone who scared of everything, and that fear is slowly consuming you, confining you, and you live with the thorns of fear piercin' each layer of your skin. Come here. Come here. Come here. We will take you somewhere, nothing less than to reach your freedom. To a place where those thorns slowly turn into flowers that grow on every inch of your body. To a place where your fear fades, disappears. And you feel nothing. Look! Angels are waiting for you! With arms opened, we'd like to ask you one more time before taking you away with us: “My dear, do you believe us?”
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