Skruge

This land populated of dislexic knowledge is cremating my spectating imagination and is spiraling me into the well consisting a confrontation with a reflecting ghost. Shock overcomes any other thought or emotion battling to reach center attention to the mind. As if that one tale based on the end of every year is selecting me as it's main character. So I stand in place as this burden to those surrounding me and I am being taken back and forward to view choices, consequences and regret. The only difference in my epic than the famous written metaphoric tale is I've done no wrong, I have committed no act to where I should be smitted by remorse. A lesson in incorrect choices? I still have yet to find wrongdoings in any of my past year events. What appears to the first person point of view is maybe a relieving break-off from a streak of greying cold....