And it's getting heavy now, trying to carry it all. It seems these days the writing sits, further beyond the walls. The journey never seems to end. No, not without a way. I fought my bitter inquisition just to fill my idol days. It's been awhile since my bones have rest, and even longer since they've stood still. I keep feeling that turbulence that rests from deep within my will. And I learned awhile back that it's better to keep silent. Nothing's worth the way it hurts when the world becomes so violent. Lord knows the pain lingers from within my own vibrant fault. And the shame that I confide upon, it only brings me to a halt. It could all still come together, but then how would it make any sense? All points come to an end they say, but such fiction seems immense. My freedom didn't last, so I abandoned it with youth. The years have only brought me a hesitation upon the logic claimed as truth. It was easier with ignorance, although it was never quite such bliss. I sometimes still fire at will, yet when I aim I miss. Don't tell me you don't understand, because you never even tried. I promise I'm not disappointed, for my only hope has died.