Man nestles further in his falsehoods and fabrications
The subdued hues alluding to something...Lesser
Rough yet rigid, in pillars frigid and
Stone.

Barely fitting, barely standing
Hardly loving, hardly meaning to go
Choked like an asthmatic child in the smog
We are the snow in a blizzard after the world prayed for sun
The wolf at the door with teeth gone dull
Don't worry of the time
You've plenty to mull
It over.

In the face of the storm we comprise
The sun to bright in our losing eyes
We must go.

Lest the scars of our past strangle us like a partridge for dinner
With loss there's no winner at all.
Meet my eyes even if you don't love me with your heart
Don't be
Harsh.