A single soul lays on the corner
Abandoned, lonely for the time.
Its vessel has left it there to cry in silence
For that soul has no medium, no outlet to use

These words are before perfection
A monotone within soulless mind
The toil of the environment would be enough
For if the soul were present to weep the tears

No joy or pleasure, desire lacking
A constant dredge through swamp
Eyelids flutter unsynchronous to the sun
Behold life of instincts and irrelevant singals

Written: March 28, 2006 @ 9:33 AM CST