dread of loss

various states of empathetic stature rupturing festered fasting the ever dying facade of kindled reflection joy developing into a bond so great that the fevered greatness hitting the juggler vain bleeding out of shattered souls decay havoc torment not outer darkness or the raptures of hell truth be told it still hitting hard at times the everlasting sorrow that doth creep in to the veins of ice cold regret that sparked a mediocre writings such as this to have spewed into existence going into the inknown is as vast as coming upon a very sweet battered soul ever doing saying nothing important prudent as may be doing a jesture that seems humble have grand outcomes at times the moral of this be ever present