Wake up, dear lill' fella.
It's mornin', rise in shine.
As the little boy rubs his eyes,
blinded by the sunrays,
he tries to get out of bed.
When dressed up,
he walkes down the stairs.
As the others are sitting at the table,
so he does to.
The plate in front of him,
read, happy rectangles,
shapes and patterns drawn on it.
Happy,... why,...
As he reaches for the breadslices
the plate's patterns turn grey.
He bites in the slice of bread
he had just taken out of the grey basket.
Taste,... why,...
As everything turns black and dark,
the poor boy is suddenly reminded
that life is just consience.
A way to experience feelings,
signals registered by the brain,
given through to the soul to be felt.
feeling,... why.
O0o.