Falling through the span of life
There in the doubts of mind and soul
One soul resides in a crevice of darkness and despair
Where a torrent evokes a passion never seen before
Crying out for help from a long forgotten trust
And hoping to see what is not there
And flying to honor and tyranny in one breath
Inhaling the vastness of his lost cause.
The man has no choice but to fall
To die and lie with the best of falsehoods
To graze from the fields of lost dreams
To wish that once he may know the sunlight.
This is the curse of a soul tormented
Lost in a current of disappearing hopes and dreams
Never to be rescued from his own mind
The greatest tormentor of all.
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