Naught escapes my fingers but dark, twisting lines.
Lines filled with emptiness.

Naught escapes my lips but intertwined with hints of a shadow.
Not invisible and yet, not noticeable.

Naught escapes my gaze without consideration of murkiness.
Wariness, a shield infused with thorns on its handle.

Naught escapes my mind and heart without entanglement.
Filtering and organising thoughts into a greater mess.

Naught escapes my soul but vacant sighs.
Moving forward whilst not fully comprehending why.