we are the pioneer sinners we invented iniquities that no one has done before we are poets and authors we create lives out of our imagination we put the prologue we plot and we predict endings to suit our desires we revive the deads and kill the livings we create realms of fantasy and drag the readers into different worlds we revive imagery out of letters we keep you up all night we steal your attention and influence your dreams to hate to love to terrify you and yet we face injustice every time our writings die when not being read we die inside we're jealous we're broken when our books are not equally appreciated as the efforts it took to spell our minds into papers we are the keepers of memories and what keeps us going the resurrection within of an author who never truly dies every time someone reads his words he's up for one more breathe of ecstasy