Shearing, disintegrating
The flux of microcosm, macrocosm
I object, for goes the tide
Cold, voluminous, constant
Gently drifting into oblivion

Eyeing shifting sands
A hollow distraction, losing all the way
Circular reason
The function of endless lament
The light grows only more distant

Seldom will pity regress
For what is it worth to take it all back?
This bleak and selfish hope
Condemning fate, withering grass

Removed from all senses,
All is collapsing, the fragile design
The familiar fear consumes my mind

Whispers of morning
Worn away, fallow, in apathy
Deprecating, self-indulgent dejection
This pain will not subside

Refused
What have I done to deserve this?
The frigid air cuts deeper still
Abandon the failing pleasures
Emerging shadows eclipse
My only comfort celestial, silent bliss

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