When I was younger I lusted after the quieter days
Dead of winter months ******* in a haze
Unable to see through another's eyes
Studclosed trying to decipher life's truth from its lies.
Foundations were built from less than what I had
Underappreciated minor convictions
Brought forth with deeper afflictions.
Nothing makes sense, of that I am sure
Obiediently await the deafening allure.