Close to mutation. Evolving never revolving. Intentions run wild as he ashes on the night sky contemplating all of the things he should have created. This narrative.

I'm tired, but don't count me out until you're dead.

Admire all the things you marred. Don't expect.

Elevated meandering. No longer jaded. Contemplate carefully. I'll show you all the places I've been wounded but I'm getting tired of you asking and not understanding.

Seeking. Trying to make sense of your broken harmony.