Riddle XXXXX

Storm breathing the winds...

     Beyond the most northern well at this sandcaslting bliss never remotely incapacitated felt home heritage judgement sickness born of our world's lingering burden unto the end to bear; Never acknowledge, Always cope... The wounds promised to be read by the derelict hopeless disclaimer children of dread never sought, Those screaming unwillingly holocaust ignored war translated another numb transient generation's tongues witnessed tangents of thriving ghosts writhing for magnificent our fiery death control unto those pretending to exist within their outlined dead perimeters of continuous... Their transcript requiem of our dying happiness is... Woe for each moment feels stolen...  As thunder unto lightning, Existing derelict of sound or brightness, In silence united is the confronted for of whatever we're born sinking addiction ship into the occupation of...!

In lieu of our participation in,
Never agreeing...
To this ghost,
In a suicide,
Shell