Aweary sigh echoing aloud,
-its decibel level striking madly,
Withholding scars everywhere-
-a poisonous touch,
Creeping beneath my skin.
Still the wounds are alive-
and there this setting sun,
Like my crimson heart-
Drowning into the sea of despair.
Of a satiric exposure upon my life.
Once existed truth and its whole-ness
N.B. an unfinished poetic thoughts from years back.