Drawn toward the depth of his thoughts, the journey begins. The look of his innocence shows vulnerability. Pain and bitterness creep within, pull him even deeper to nowhere. He screams yet no one comes for a rescue. The deafening sound of his own voice reechoes back to him. He cries and mourns the death of his freedom. The whips of tyranny rob him off of wonderful memories to cherish. Much of his life has been lived in darkness, which becomes the refuge of his being. His awful fate deprives him of bliss---a pure joy to forget about the scars. His wounds continue to bleed which almost always have his heart and his mind stained with blood.


Despite the shadow of his indifference, he forces himself to come out and take part where time has dropped him off. He explores in each moment of his wakefulness. Cautious not to let anyone into the fortress he builds for himself, he keeps his distance. Countless times has he been fighting against every threat. Circumstance is never a friend. It brings him so much pain and frustration. This isn't his war but he already has his foot set onto it….