A life lived in the shadows is cold and barren
strangers with their backs turned, no soul is carin…
in a prism of disgustful, disruptive, disillusioned hate
I live in accordance, according to accustomed breaks
Driven to pits of hell, the tires have blown
I stride to walk across the fire and stones
Lifted to the shallow, shackles of shammed traits
listening to ominous, omissions and omens of fate
Forced to indulge an bask the fruits of labor
buried innocence while the roots are layered
In a prison of destitude, devilish, demented wakes
I swim through adventitious, adversaries, adamant to shake
against the grains of loathing with quarrels and quicksand
Breaking the last straw, controlling with morals to withstand
Submission Name: Intact
