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From the gutter it leaks
From inside the window does outsides play appear to me
Obscured from rain that leaks from the gutters
The gutters...Accumulated filth
Autonomy is the dictator of this sad living
Mirages are my master
love my craving....Love... has been limited
Therefore it is gone, for beliefs draw over my eyes
Such as the drapes to the window I pull
The outside play seems as if it provides little assistance
Only solitude in which I wither inside
Is there hope somewhere in this hell that may someday provide
But that hope is gone, it's nothing but ice
I sit now as a stump from a once prosperous tree
Just stump with no action and no sense of living
Oh how many self-judgemental thoughts come in front of these eyes
as if shadowing any light that I refuse to let in sight
Synapses frailed and I move in resistance
There's little to be said for one who is encrypted
Especially when the programmer can't even depict it.
