What eerie Mists, and Mysterious frosts lay waste to this lively heart, that all its aspects beauteous they may be, subjected to the rigorous threats and faults of sinful life. They hope to besmirch this lively heart.
The stormy gales, the warm clear skied vales, all apart of this world twisted routines, "Good Cop, Bad Cop' as it were, flawed. When it is ridden on this routine, it soared.
The winter has subsided, the Summer has blossomed, and all this vale does is resemble the good nature of the heart. No matter what it is subjected too, it shall eventually be returned and all this world will not thrive till hate is removes from the heart.