Sorrow fills the heads of many whilst pain claws it's way into the marrow of our bones.
Sadness is an everyday sight to behold since we be born, and love. O! Love. Love it the
creator, instigator, insulator, and commentator to our troubles.Yet we desire it direly so.
For not the cracks and falls of creation nor the creator nor the created are to blame for such a sickenly indulging joy,
apotent intoxincating burning water that drips from a lover's lips spitting out nice things to say.
O they always have something nice to say. So much that I doubt they have any actual thing to say.
Alone, dorment in solitude of my own creation to not let anyone in nor I out. Weeping at the bootom of every hour
To hear something nice to say, no press my mouth to the hell well that is a she and fill myself til I can't stomach no longer
and my lungs must suffice. Sorrow fills the eyes of millions a whilst happiness jaws away at the meat on our bones. Ripping... and shredding... till our mere frames remain...
