scream.

 They screamed. “¨ 

The air rattled in tune

“¨and they screamed so loud         “¨ 

   their heads blew up.
   Finding themselves        in a place that made no sense,   
they pieced together secrets,
white lies, fear, dreams and glue them with beliefs.
ҬAnything
to draw images     of themselves “¨ “¨to validate their existence

constructing

a common thing called memory.  “¨ “¨ “¨ 
Time passes.
Myth becomes reality. “¨ “¨ “¨ “¨ “¨They call it history.

from Meet My Dead Grandfather