A bucket of water and one glass of paint, it doesn\'t really make sense so they don\'t relate.
A sky full of rain and a view made of sun is a bargain to one man and a burden to no one.
\"splendid\" said splendour to spending its time, I am now penniless to that happiness of mine.
Turmoil to the termite\'s that crawl in my face, horse play with mirrors to fight them away.
My madness grows angry inside of a box, long lost and forgotten it atrociously mocks.
Distorted and pulled in a scalene type shape, not prism nor parallel to this shapes escape. Suffering stalks silence in the dark of the hall, it would be true to say no one knows silence like suffering does.