So slow things are Like a winter morning with no sight It kills me to see all these things With no passion or linguistically I cannot ponder to question Yet rain is everything all at once Caring for the world is not easy Conclusions like this are unappropriated
The things I write mean nothing The things I think are everything Breathing the heartaches of your thoughts Overbearing the world of its providence They dismay the morality of humankind Goals like this are faulty in every way The end is to close and the start is right here
