Unknown, the Remnant Strands
It befalls on me the intensity,
Catapulted with dire immensity,
Within which lives the sensitivity,
Of them emotions built, the lightest.
Then befell on me, the beknownst,
Whistled in hymnes and in absence,
The peculiarities in offsetting balances,
Them unknown like the remnant strands,
And today rejoicing to the kinds of sounds,
Evilly tracked and maximum on commands,
Nursed the grievances forthwith,
Right so denied the chances to doeth,
Fight for agreances to heal and find worth,
Midst the punches on all ends and broken.
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