A Wolf's hide,
Devoured,
Poured over the lambs' tears.

A loving hell in a Rouen march,
Far north and some miles behind,
Thence tipped and spared,
Making a way
For ides and blinds,
Could you see the man behind?

Fallen ideals,
Became elidible and fractured.
Plead not to be read
But to be planted
within the bearers of hearts
Steps by steps
Build a great arch
Of ignorance, of illiterate tears.

A peaking answer,
A broken language.

Dream your way through my mind
Find answers but questions
Perhaps perhaps