Dear god, I can't find a way to unleash my boredom unless it requires me to feckin' write up vocabularies.
Through the wind they broke into my ears
Those words of cries filled with fears
None but represented by tears.
Demands for help I have heard in the begs of the mirror
A flower of death beginning to wither
It is only myself that I hear.
I am falling upon myself for I am disabled
Little possession of emotions,