Sharp
He was dreaming again. Smoke, knives, and sweet lies floated through his head as he slept. He could have felt regret, but that emotion was drowned out by curiosity that glowed brighter than the sun. Curiosity that gripped him tighter than shackles and dragged him down further than gravity.
He could have freed himself, he had the keys, but he did not want to. Perhaps that is why he dreams of guilt. However that is just that, a dream, an alien emotion his mind conjured in his sleep. He will soon forget that once he wakes up, and emotions like guilt and regret will be pushed into the farthest corners of his mind, returning only to haunt him at his most vulnerable moment.
For now, he will continue on, carefree and unwilling to acknowledge the looming darkness underneath his happy thoughts. He opened his mouth and more lies dripped out, sharper than knives and coated in grey smoke. He speaks of innocence when he himself is not. He prattles on about guilt when even he avoids any accusations directed to his sins. This shadow dared to interfere in matters concerning the law when he weaves around it like a fox running from hunters.