dark depths of feble minds surround the existance of deturmination and human emotions, has one come to the next, one to kill a man, one to find the truth? deep rooted findings and mericals of exsistance and life, surround the on thinker and deepen the blackened soul with dought and depression. humans are humans, life is life, death is death, not one is better than the other, not one does not have a flaw, in time fadings whispering wind of fate, life reccons its demeaner, and reconsiles its fate, for time and time again every acton in stone, for free will can and will be forever predicted in the forspace of life in which we chose to live and breath. every movement every life, triled and falted with glistening moon stricken light upon its ever so deeply gazing eyes, it sees nothing but the memories trailing over and over again in its mind, its heart beating fast as possable and its breath shallow and predited by the onlookers of life that is non existant. depths of shallow minds and hearts glisten again upon the teeth of truth and the difference between life and death holding in them the question to destroy and the breath of existance that is short upon all life. the question lost in trancelation of feeble minded blindness and temtation and the granit now bitten as the bullet in the window, now for once the answer isnt simple nor right nor wrong nor light in the dark shadows of the surroundance of the night, and the whispering thoughts upon the mind, distraction in the midst of deep thought and depression flow threw the keys and out of my mind outomaticly not a thought not a word not a given single practice of what is to say and come for everything flows like a tromendious ravionus fasting river, as it swollows everything in the midst of its path and destroies the soul within as it streaks across the midnight stars into the souls of all who scorn and decend their harsh and over rash words upon the lips to souls now crushed under pressure of hope and dreams colliding and dieing every inch of it given in to destruction as all hope lost, without love or comfort in time everything dies alone. In the midst of suffering agony lies a soul rotted and disposed of, disrut, disgusted, bitter, lone, and wild, lying dead upon the bleeding grass, as forth knowledge her lessons gone ignored and her heart never gone unsoured..
- Mood:
Anger - Playing: life