In a pensive state of mind, the world feels like it’s crumbling all around.
The cosmos of amity have destroyed all vivacious emotions.
Nocturnal pleasures and day lighted treasures have lifted my cadaver
Gliding off to a far away division of some doleful domain.
No rhapsodic aorta will transcribe my retrospectives.
Jaunty feelings will concur the careworn dimensions.
A parallel universe will dement the outspoken ways
Permitting lucubrations to be shared among each other freely in non-judgemental displays
Must this be all that’s left of a fully lived life?
Do the characters change over an unknown period of time?