As the luminous day transforms into dusk, a fragile balance has been disrupted.
Trapped in the twilight of despair,
In stumbles the bruised man,
Cut twice by others.
The next time I wish to conjure up a ghost, I will greet my reflection covered in cloth.
Escape would be simple if these vines could be removed.
Becoming part of the merging light, it is difficult to separate myself from the noise.
The foundation forced its firm influence against my spine,
A gift and burden intertwined.
Blocks only serve as a jumping point,
The challenge is to find one resting above the clouds.
I let the fog cascade through my whispers,
And place old patterns where memory fails.
The shock of seclusion has indubitably left its mark across my senses.
Such beautiful weather for a tragedy.
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