A Crooked World

With-the wholeness of my Eyes-I try, But this horizon is shortened and my sight is gone. Through a skewed world, I question the air, and still breathe it's toxicity. Accepting it's warped days of fog weighing down. We are sending an anchor to hell. Watching our skies turn to fire, and the devil come to be But with changing moments, new life, new chances for a leveling of us. Nevertheless-poor little hopes, stand on there feet and fall from a slanted world. Learning to walk a hunched and hazy path. I ask now with a humid heart. Will this tiring fog ever lift? -Waiting on whispers Will this falling ever ground? - Wactching unwearyingly All the while, take short breaths and weary steps, Foresaken, the heavy fog Weighs our world in deaths.