the sun sets with much disdain for the morrow; the wind, stale with defeat, whispers echoing clandestine guilt of things never meant to be.

the heart burrows deep unto solemn internal recourse, bound by flame and disgust, pleading to be set free and seen - to no avail

where does the mind go when the heart can't see? where do all the gentle words flee when there is no feeling left of hope or love?

to beseech is to abstain - they never listen. begotten by the ignorant, time seems lost in itself. where there was doubt, so came the demise of hope.

seek anew, rise above the pain. listen, speak, learn. the pale, sultry face of redemption is close. my savior and kindness. sweet humble voice of reason: save me from this doubt. your eyes speak to me and your mind drives the curiosity within wild with passionate conjecture.

you may be closer than you think