M A R K G O U L D
Burdens Of Depravity
What have I become?
Where are the soft-lipped winds of precious youth?
Where are the serene hues of the bliss of naivety?
Oh, how I long for a mind free of chains of depravity!
My soul cries out in anguish
At the vexing darts of filthy indignation
How could it have come to this?
As the strength of my will fades
And my heavy eyes sink beyond hopes of starlight threads