Trickled, Tickled, Laughter at my heart. Too far apart, yet a sudden rush. A push, another type of fix for me. Still knowing who I am without knowing my history. Listening,a glistening past that I am unsure of. A History book covered in blood so I can't read it. I read the cover. Yet in some crazy way I didn't want to know what was inside. My mother pried, it open and little of it unveiled and I did not watch, nor touch it so I could create my own Legacy, and destroy any documentation of it, so rugged. But I want the next generation to be unique. Seek for new adventures so the Pre-burned History book of their life would be filled to their own knowledge. A college of theirselves. I dont know my history, but I can make a path filled with myself.