It is as it seems to my delight.
a feeling that doesnt feel so right.
withholding tendencies of a care not in sight.
I fear this life isnt worth the fight.

Flipping throught the pages of my memory,
if i were gone how would they remember me?
simpistic reverie, tragic treachery.
sleep to rejuvinate unfullilling energy.
thoughts on a crashing trajectory maybe, were all apart of distorted mirrors
Protected by a shimmering castle of glass