Walking talking rocking the way,
life is a wheelbarrow,
never to know, what to come,
life is struck arrow.

Right through my heart, went the spear,
leaving no sign on rear,
screaming so loud in the fear,
Is there anyone that can hear?

Good better towards the best,
History remains, when time rests.
Choose the chose that fate had chosen,
Bringing the heat, eleminating the frozen,


Her fetching eyes and admirable admiration,
Bewitching face and angelic representation,
Beauteous glimpse and foxy nature,
Captivating image beyond imagination.

I am alive, but my heart ain't beating,
running hard, but I ain't sweating,
I am lost, but mind ain't thinking,
I am awake, but eyes ain't flinching,

oh doc am I alive?
tell the truth, will I survive,
reluctant to answer, purplexed doc,
said the death will arrive.

Without you, I am so harden,
I am stuck I wish to pardon,
I was the land, you rosey flower,
being barren from springy garden.

walking talking rocking the way,
life is wheelbarrow,
oh heart, don't worry so hard,
life is struck arrow.

Lost in a wander, conflicted with anxiousness. I walk in a black cube of my own fears that no matter what I do engulfs my life like air. Maloncholy to happiness I sit in this purplexed contradiction called existence and ponder the outcomes of the what if's and what-not's of my timeline, feeling as if I couldn't have really changed anything. Considering the circumstances of my own needing to be unhappy or to be alone in my own decisions. To potentially hex myself of this vector of morbid depression seems unachievable at times, I step away and see that it's me in an emotional blur with my head spinning and my rash justifications of who and why I am so stuck in a lose of love circular rotation.