I don't own things.
They all laugh and smile, but I know they're really crying.
At every chance they get, they reminisce about the war.
They recall battles long past, friends passed away.
They act as though they're happy, satisfied.
But I know they feel hollow and bitter.
When I look at these poor people, I pity them.
Because they're so full of memories.
Yet they have no future.
They're ghosts, they remain in the past.
Although Nergal is gone, they seem exactly the same as when I last met them.
But its all a charade.
They needed that war, and they're nothing without it.
Back to their pathetic existences.
They hug their their ex-comrades, their fingers claw at the silk like they're being pulled away.
Stuck in the war, they have become shells of the people they used to be.
Plastered grins, but I can see their tea cups trembling.
These people don't know what to do with themselves, entangled in a deadly web of stagnation.
I'm different than these soldiers, chatting at reunions.
Because Dart and I, we're going to find that treasure.
They can rot themselves to death as they idle in those chairs, for all I care.
Because I look past their façades, and I see that they're stricken with tragedy.
I shut the ballroom doors behind me. I don't care.
Because I finished that chapter a long time ago.
Talk about Farina kicking ass. I don't know what possessed me to write this. It's probably because I just recently saw some old friends from middle school, and they seemed so pathetic. Like they wished they could go back to those days. But I can only move forward, so think of Farina in this as me.
The periwinkle button is moaning your name...