Hearing cracks in daily bells,
and waking from a friendly spell,
of evil likeness never lets me sleep,

But just see past the “won’t”
and for those who simply don’t,
have ne’er stared in the eyes of a stress itself.

And my notebooks ne’er rest either,
when I think of reaching higher,
I’l still scrape it till the paper bleeds deep.

So of others I shall think,
when “insane” on the brink;
I’ll soon collapse hard for the sake of myself.

And I’m sorry for the pardons,
For of work I’m far less ardent
Than of distraction, worry and zealous self-doubt.

So to you say I quite candid,
Think of my mind further banded
To the places requiring far less sneaky stealth.