. ... ..... ......... ............. ................. ......Replacement...... ................. ............. ......... ..... ... . I guess I knew the wrong person, or didn't know the right person. How lovely that times hands can kill them in a mind. To be running against a cold cold wind in the middle of a winters night, the air burning the warmth from inside your cheek. Then stopping to check a mirror for a reflection, surprised to only see a ghost there. The burning felt real, the air stunning. Times hand kept going, even in your invisible state. As long as there are others, as long as they are there. A hanging gut in the back of your mind, prooves you didn't need that, that you didn't do that, that you were never there. Just memories now. Just things to pass. There will be more anyway. Will they mean as much will the mirror proove true. Will I come back inside after my outer experience? Like a missing person hid on the milk. Like a bird in the winter. Like a midplay interference. Like a deeply laid in splinter. Like you never even existed. ...................HIDDEN CHILD................