Mustard seems to seep into everything

Opaque dreams upon a yellow brick road

Born into this age as a Witchdoctor

But no realized skills are apparent at first Wind

The yellow seeds of resiliance have executed their Roots

We learn from them, we learn to exist and adapt to the environments we are thrown into

Barren with no memory

Stiching the web we lay in

Often it is taken down

Often we lay and wonder and rebuild

Handmade to catch Nightmares, anything that keeps us from obtaining the strength to claim the unconscious state.