XII - 2000-01 - Untitled

The meek grasps for the wings of love,
But fails and plunges down into a trough,
Feeling only the same lingering sadness within himself,
He feels no pain, or so he thinks,
For life has dealt him enough blows to drive him insane.
With crushed desires in mind mixed with false peace,
The fool treads through the years,
Aimlessly walking about, hoping for nothing more but for the pain to go away.
(So the seasons came and went,)
Yet the pain remained,
And with each passing day,
The morality of the decent dwindled under the constant strain,
And with it, the mind, the soul and heart of the fool went down the drain,
Lost were his dreams, lost was his past, lost was his life, and lost is his future.