This lock upon my heart, broken and subtle everlasting defeat.
This hope of dreams yet to come, though dreams I had shatter among pattering, puttering, pittering feet.
This uneasy and queasy unrest in my soul divided amongst what is left among the wreckage in my mind
This life of ours, not mine but ours, one that I share amongst all whom I would meet.
This
This.
This!
This?
This is not a livid reprimand of the doubtful and forgotten souls, wretched and hateful, living every moment to the next in hopeful agony against the trifles of life, for
This is a great dedication to those who are broken and shattered and hateful and gone.
This.
This. Is for you and those around you. We're all broken and so are you but if you look, just look! Because this.
This is for the world to be better
This is for them all to see what's wrong and for US! We must be united in shattered contempt.
This.
