Dismal is my hearts content, to find in age the unfamiliar weight of uncertainty.
To rise with the day knowing much,
lack of dreaming,
has not changed.
And only do I pressume forth the notion of blissful ends,
will I see that wasted youth with wasted days are the thumping sounds of my regret.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Dismal is my hearts content, to find in age the unfamiliar weight of uncertainty.
To rise with the day knowing much,
lack of dreaming,
has not changed.
And only do I pressume forth the notion of blissful ends,
will I see that wasted youth with wasted days are the thumping sounds of my regret.