The likelihood of noticing your pain has led me to a certain disdain that there is not enough in my reach makes it go easy nor my love can teach.
These affections leave a grainy picture framed solely for the purpose of that memory remained. Settling its course of a wayward continuity while I steered and veered with stifled ingenuity.
I grinned that I may have been far exceedingly helpless thus my loneliness cheered back at me relentless. Self-deprecation is ecstatic and fearful at worst; to love and lost the beauty, I propose is something of prose.