The words lost in the  cacophony of deranged souls from the void,
They call out to me in need and look for a place to bleed.
   Whereas their spirit sinks into the earth to be forgotten.

But forgive me not as I take your vitality and whither it away,
Like the leaves in the dying season of fall turning to winter placing us in the fray.

Punish what is seen and not told, similar to the blind man's aspirations of sense twice fold.
Beat upon this golden armor and wash away the dirt,
For being a brother to me in this world is there the pain shall spur.

But as I envision a perfect world together,
There comes the reality of a horrid, deathly endeavor.
No more sight within this broken lens,
All the blurred cracks shall repeat again.

Listen to these souls of a world gone dark and dreary,
  Let this weary forsaken soul become human and bleed with feeling.