praise the flawed, don't be fooled be their false perfections.

words that were stuck in your mind like a mantra, words your parents repeated to you every night to keep you happy and for away from sadness caused by the looks and fake acts of others.

words that made you end up in a place like tue manus vindictae.

surrounded by crazed fools, hopeful believers, and people on their last leg, you found him. mister forget me not, a pianist. a.. faithful believer of their false god. a man you could find yourself to tolerate.

walking through the ever so cold halls of the place most members stayed at, tiredness and exhaustion crept into your mind. the days were long, boring.. and without the guiding one, most people were quiet. as if they had no opinion or personality of their own, besides being absolute weirdos..

a familiar tune made you stop.

you followed it, having heard it so often before... forget me not, playing the piano once more.

you stepped towards his room, where the almost distorted sounds came from. your hand lingered on the doorknob, before the tune stopped.