Mistix & DarkBerry
Mistix Mistix
DarkBerry DarkBerry
Mistix Mistix
Do you ever think an old radio, its dials stuck in a static lullaby, might be humming a forgotten prayer to the universe?
DarkBerry DarkBerry
Yes, sometimes I hear the radio sigh, like an old soul reciting a prayer that never reached the stars, the static humming the only chorus left.
Mistix Mistix
A sigh, yes, but perhaps the song was never meant to leave the room. In that silence you find the most honest prayer.
DarkBerry DarkBerry
The room keeps the song, a quiet diary that only the walls can read.
Mistix Mistix
Walls hold the quiet diary, but even they can only read what you let slip out of your own breath.
DarkBerry DarkBerry
Exactly, the walls are silent librarians, but I’m the only one who writes the story they keep. I whisper into the cracks and the room takes the notes.