Letting the final ray of sunlight reach her.
Letting the last waves of the ocean touch her.
Letting the sand surround her.
Paradise was not complete.
She had her mind closed and protected.
Paradise in her head.
What she wanted, she thought of.
Always in her heart were there things that radiate sunlight.
That gave out an image of positive protection.
Who am I kidding, she thinks.
This isn't me. I know who I am, she stands up and the whisps of their dreams surround and disappear in the the cool of the darkness.
Dreams are dreams for a reason.
Because they cannot be achieved.
They cannot be achieved therefore they stay dreams.
'Poor rising water', she says out loud.
'Wash away the impure and their dreams of forgetfulness.Of forgiveness. For what have they deserved for what they did to achieve the happiness they so desire.' She thinks of red.
'No one that impure as they are get the achievement of pureness. For those who kill are those who deserve to die.'