Turn the page, can you see that the pages have been erased, my shivering turns into screams, my heart pounds for instant gratification, I've found the lonely, I've found the love, instantaneously I fall to my knees.

Confrontation in front of my mere reflections, yes the faces are many, entertainment has rediscovered the hollow.

The weight of disorganization, I follow you as I catch a fading smile, don't turn to me wanting comfort, an execution of inheritance is long overdue.

Drifting into a flurry of cascading thoughts, my unsung influence is closely analyzed but you will be the one witnessing the unfortunate, establishing the quest is the ending to mistreatment.

Now back into the tunnel, a constant visual of the agony of my children, the purity of spirituality begins to cry.

Talent is not a description, the true pain of it all is feeling it all.

Written By: Christopher M. Schultz