Overcast evening mixed with air and rain
Foreboding hairs rising, thoughts in vein
Words a loss at most to the gloss of this face
Strikingly beautiful to the beholder to trace

And it comes to this,
To care once more
With armor and all,
Flocking feathers fallen a more

There heeds no guide
No aide
To why we do
What our mind forbade

Discipline furthers its stretch
This man and his juvenile mind a mesh
Simply a child seeking a maternal figure
In every woman, a trigger

Trickling on the sides of faces
Are theses outlines for lost graces
Mixed ways in dismays from everyday
Departure to fool into rapture today

This is how it revolves to the middle
Month where a year comes,
To so little
A refreshment course to the choices
Taken hold by desirable answers

Trying to figure not to procure
An imminent ache to secure