S.O.S/Songs Of Sanity

[r3vange]

Deep among the wreckage of thoughts and feelings
lost in the void of a damaged brain, somewhere underneath the thousand voices in a deranged mind lived a
skinny little girl. Her fragile body was trapped under the rubble of a wicked existence. The little girl'€™s name
was Mary. And Mary didn'€™t want anything different than any other 10 year old girl. But life is a cruel
mistress...The 10 year old Mary ate her parents, the 10 year old Mary survived for a full month in the
Cardamine fields, the 10 year old Mary'€™s DNA and most importantly mind turned into an atrocity. The 10
year old Mary is still there, her screams to be set free turning into psychotic rage twisted and misinterpreted
by thousands of other weeps. That little Mary was never heard, yet she was the fuel powering it all, the
raison d'etre of Maria Martinez .

And what did Maria want? She didn'€™t know herself, whatever she wanted she had one way or another,
locked in her own twisted cycle of killing the things she loves and then using it as an excuse to do it again
and again and again, until her cells are so degraded they could no longer keep their bonds together. Was
she happy in all of this? One could have a hard time finding a happier person in all of Sirius. Because
delusion is a blessing. Because in the land of the wicked the crazy one is a king. What did Maria want? To
put some space between the cacophony in her head and the orderly world so conveniently stacked against
her senses. She wanted to build a fortress, her very own castle in which she could be the one and
only'€¦servant. And indeed she found such a castle.

Deep in the Silverton field the skeleton of what was once a driving force for Liberty'€™s expansion floating
there not unlike a human being. One that lived a glorious life fighting for somebody else'€™s development left
out and abandoned for the crows to pick. The irony of it all is that human beings can'€™t find a deranged
Maltese girl to live in their skeletons once the vultures have devoured their flesh. This corpse was to be
Maria'€™s protection from the wicked longings of her own mind.

The Sabre attached itself to station'€™s outer hull like a flea ready to unleash the vermin in its circulatory
systems of corridors. Indeed Maria was a vermin relative to the dead hulk, revival to the dead is just
another way of saying death for the living. The dark depressurized corridors filled with empty containers
endlessly spinning in their weightless dance, sounds of squealing metal and lost dreams. It took Maria three
weeks and almost one million credits to turn the dead skeleton into a macabre piece of art. And then again
one would look and see dark corridors, hear peculiar sounds of debris hitting the outer hull, the creepy
releases of trapped gasses between the bulkheads'€¦The station was almost the same'€¦.almost, the striking
analogy- being dead is almost the same as being alive'€¦but that '€œalmost'€ makes all the difference in the
world. What were once posters to motivate the miners were now weird works of art instilling unrest, creepy
statues of deformed human figures frozen still in their imaginary pain. Death is all about repurposing, a
simple truth misunderstood by religions and governments alike. When you die you become a corpse, food
for some, bounty money for others, your flesh rots and your vessel expires as turns to nutrients for the soil
or your space coffin crashes into a barren planet and spreads bacteria which in 10 000 000 years turn to
living creatures that live die and get repurposed again'€¦The cycle begun...

...a castle was built

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