Lost in translation, emeded in past decisions.
Stumbled from one blunder to another.
The whirlwind of dedication to rebellion.
Exposed to nothing more than harsh viability.
Besieged thy self with wealth, loveless intimacy, and poisons of many diversities.
Vulnerable are we who misplace time.
In due course, though the descent may be rutted, the landing shall be well worth the lot of misfortunes.
Forget the turmoil. Forget not the nurturing wings of the nest that once was home.
