Recipe

the ingredient for mischief was severly lacking as sour traces pressed against the bane of hope long forgotten bitterness impounded her every word and empty stare searching for something that still made sense in this land of illusion she now called home it was different on her planet her birth place, her dome of intelligence that once was somewhere before this strife no one escapes which one of these doors holds the hidden key which one is nothing more than an empty hologram left behind from some feeble failed attempt the one you can never forget