By Arcassin Burnham  

I search to find the truth in
you and all these places,
But the information turns purple
and loses its breath Each time,
Can't put the stress on my body
enough to see all these Faces,
But the circumstances are falling
out of silver colored skies,
Limit all of your chances,
Time to make some changes,
You've spent your whole life in
a house where people Don't get the message,
Why the long face,
why the sense of unenlightened feelings,
Like a punch in the face each time
I make mistakes,
For that....
the information has died.