In my diction, i woe to past but clap,
In my memo, i praise my words but think.
Isn't life so slow, so simple, so straight,
Isn't breath so high, so clear, so separate.
Struggling deep to the points of devotion,
The notions fill wonderous hollow ocean.
Priorty as mine own enhanced numbers,
Combine separate blunders of wonders.
Things start, and ends so fast,
That even eyes see the outcomes alone.
May'st caves surrounds the sounds of mine,
Upon mountains, upon the tallest alpine.
Race and races follow aggresion,
After life, after hurdles, things follow depression.
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