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We are between the wild thoat of certainty and the mad zitidar of fact

We are between the wild thoat of certainty and the mad zitidar of fact

We are between the wild thoat of certainty and the mad zitidar of fact (Edgar Rice Burroughs)

We are just misguided ghostsTravelling endlesslyThe ones we trusted the mostPushed us far awayAnd there’s no one roadWe should not be the sameBut I’m just a ghostAnd still they echo meThey echo me in circles – Paramore

For two years, she and Cassie had been inseparable. And then one night, Cassie had disappeared from her bed. In her place, her abductor had left his calling card, a macabre nursery rhyme. Cassie had never come home

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