Voice carries little sound anymore,
personalities split upon staggered sword,
caught within own swindled ward –
Don't know what my mood will be today,
a dirty colored array,
Would you help to make it change?
Didn't come with a form of warning –
thousand wishes to have emotional scars scrapped out for sorting,
.... I suppose that's how one gets to learning;
Though –
Something about who I was changed when hazel swooped mine,
arms carry such an effort for my own troubles laying benign,
not a fault that none carry for tears I reserve for waver times.