I should have written this a long time ago..Before I heard the silent blow,
When senses were heightened and vision clear,
Before hope swept out and I cried o dear..
Entwined with the twilight the darkest hour,
That envelops within its core, the sour..
It's hard to see and numbness prevails,
The hardest part, memories remain..
From Here to what, from what to where,
Feels like looking for night in a wild dark fare..
Veracity has hit the whims in my veins,
And soon the mind will develop melancholic drains..
I should have written this a long time ago,
When words would have made a pure and pretty prose
