rhocutt

Fractured..Broken..Torn My asylum is but a lyrical refuge We seem to forget what is most important. Purpose... We hear the sounds that please us. The Truth is... but whispers within a howling wind. Without regret we never miss a beat. ..and Neglect the words. You never seek to measure them.. You never ask who spoke them.. You recant words you can not comprehend and yet you question the void within. This is something that you can not face. You are the populace. If you wish for me to elaborate i would be glad to.