All Is But Futile
Through the darkness I moved,
sensing emptiness embodied in vague gloom
Nothing is what it seems or near to what is true,
All is but a shattered memory of what i used to be.
Angry, and why should I not be?
All is but a horrifying manifestation of what I need not heal.
Desrie is over whelming, breeding on the inside of me
All is but a lie of a hurting truth so much