RubyIceStarlight

New year, new innovation: My Lives began when they ended I realise that it had happened a lot in the books I read, people being brought back to achieve something but in all honesty you can’t be sent back if you were never there. I was a lore. A Lost Ore of a human, someone had lived, died and there soul got lost in the transition and became me. I am not immortal: I will die but death doesn’t really matter when you’ve never lived. Before you ask, I do not have a name, I've had 'names' during jobs but they are not me... Are they you? I doubt someone other than myself will inscribe in this diary other than me, call me lore,

Fox is here, Fox was there, Now where is Fox, In this infinite everywhere? Their eyes are Black, Wait, they're Blue, Perhaps they're Green too? Who knows, for all, Fox's rule us too, We dream, we sleep, Whilst the Fox's they sweep, Our minds, our hearts, For trace's of the devil's dance, Their fur is Auburn, Their fur is Gold, The moonlight shimmering, Beneath the folds, Winter and Autumn collide, Prepare for the Foxy flight, Subtle as wind blow, Dusty and Bright, Here comes Foxy, Speedy and slight, Lithe and slit, That's what they do, The Foxy Crew, Fuelled by hatred, Fuelled by you, Beware, Beware, The Foxy comes next... F O R     Y

Cheshire once came to town, His grin splitting and his lies spinning, He deceived and alluded, Befriended and charmed, White lies, pretty lies, he told them all! Weaving and Heaving them, Until they were his own web of... Consort? On the day Alice arrived, Cheshire felt exceptionally deprived, Of joy of seeing others squirm, So with his hat in his grip, held undeniably firm, he changed once more... Gone was the handsome man, Bestowed with wit and charm, Wicked Emerald orbs for eyes, Wine ringlets covering his head, All changed: Into his banded periwinkle fur, His deceiving voice - became a seductive purr, His sinful eyes however, remained

A lone wolf in a lone street, an electric fox, eyes in their greenly hue, roamed in a virtual world, polluted by its own fuelled fumes, Worn trainers and baggy Blue jeans, A stranger asks for help, He, long Black hair, Black eyes, An avatar to deceive, And she, sharp glares, judgemental stares, An avatar to be perceived, She accepts, But when the truth is revealed... Will she deny, the anonymity, behind she and him, her and whom? Or will death weaken their bond too?