This WorldIn a land ruled by more then man,Time is written with blood in sand.Ages pass as powers rise and fall.The scape erodes with waves eating wall.There rest dreams from myth and tales,Coveting history within it's cracks and swells.A realm as this, perhaps lost by God,Is preserved through the chronicling from this world of nod.
The StitchStitch escapes the skinThe infection lye withinPatience wearing thinPulls the stringCommits the sinOuch!
The deepest pointSeparated from myself and finding a deep-seeded anger for those that possess misconceptions about the going ons in my life...Tormented by words and perceptions tossed upon me by strangers who hold no understanding of this turmoil...I am once again forced into a state of discontent and self-shame, which is slowly being branded onto my mind...This only perpetually pushes me closer and closer off the cliff which is my sanity, for once I begin to fall there will be no climbing back...Forgoing the life envisioned, I quickly search for some place to anchor my line and hold fast to the rope...Now gripping to the flakes of my reality in the