'Twerest not percause of the suspicion of the dregs that haunt society rampant within this lost soul, mayhaps it too become that which it considers most vile.
Near and far, 'tis reminded only of how 't fails to reach what the dregs have.
Failure after failure has led this poor soul to the greatest depths of self sorrow.
As his vise continues to shine upon those who've attained what 't simply cannot, 'twere not just sorrow flowing through it's rotting veins, but molten animosity towards what should have been obtained.
Weary is the one who lives only in self loathing for what 't wishes to be it's simply refuses to come to fruition.
The hopes of but one lost soul are seemingly lost to the chaotic ticking of the clockwork of life.
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Fallacy Of Affection
PoesieWhat is a need to describe what is as visible as the moon in the clear night sky?
