there's never a reason for a grudge,
especially when i was the one left in the mud,
stuck in the rain, freezing and shivering,
now sickened with depression and mistrust.
hardly catching any hardening of the spirit,
allowing the gruesome idea of solitude fill in,
and now it's quiet; the birds gave up their song.
i'm dreaming again, and it's lovely; there's hardly a reason for anyone to care here.
and there's the death of my spirit again as i collapse
behind the wall that you built for my support,
as my foundation; founded on morality and respect,
i'd fallen again and scraped another bit of my shell off.
back to the dream again, and again to the back of the dream; the real reason we're displayed this imagery.
ah.