Feverishly researching the numbers and codes, she scrapes her brow. All drifting into her mind like a shattered reality. Spoken truth caresses an unglued death. A haunting of the past caresses the lips of a newborn baby and his infant soul. Inside of her, the baby kicks, she feels it growing by the moment as time creaks by. Let us go into this sweet spoken morality, pinpointing the skies delight with blood and gore as the mysterious lost soldier wonders the night. They will keep her safe she reaffirms within her perplexing thoughts spinning out of control. The kind of controlled chaos of a mother bear having her den roused; a kind of love and charm of a beast.
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