As I lay here, peering out this window to view the sunrise, all I can do is remember when the skies brought greater displays of beauty before my eyes.

I am reminded of times when hopelessness was far from the lips of my seared heart. Rest, beauty, love, they all seem like remnants of some forgotten dream. Each giving of mine vessels feels more like business transactions than the release of what moves this world.

But I feel I am the one to blame for the world's stagnation. It seemsthat my wish was granted that I bear the pain of the multitude... and yet, the pain has not mitigated. Twas but a wasted effort it seems... It seems all of my prayers have been answered...and yet, I am filled with the greatest regret. Enough to scorch my lips into a smoldering amalgamation to render myself silent for eternity.

What do we do when faced with unbearable pains and burdens? Do we trudge along like mindless corpses? It seems to beour only choice since we've
long forgotten the importance of a charitable heart, on the recieving end, as well as to giving beginning.

It seems there is none that can alleviate me from what ails me other than the heavy hand of the physician. I see all those that claim his name run with joy in their hearts, seemingly free and yet, I am one that calls out in tears, agony, and in writhing pain as these hooks dig ever so deep to the roots ln my very core. What does one do when the heavy hand ofnthe physician is kindled against you?

I have long since sacrificed sanity in search of the face of the beloved. But now, it seems that every step taken was all for naught.

I hear the hearts of men compare me to a whining babe, begging to its mother in vain for he is already filled with milk. But I am the decrepit, ancient, forgotten one whose bones crackle under the weight of the entire world. I am one who is emptied before the audience of this life, with nothing to bore before them but pain they choose not to seek. See my suffering, I beseech ye all who wish to cradle near my heart. Seek the wounds of my brokened self. There, you shall either find understanding to a broken home, or the dusty elysium trails to a void far lofted from this realm reality.