Sunday, May 5, 2013

Royal Depression

A narrative that's so forgiving
Unable to sense whether or not we're living
Unable to tell when in the thread
Leaving behind a trail of people you have led
Listening as they conspire
And the damage will never tire
In a drift with the grains of sand
All the illness will take my hand
Formerly always formal
A distribution that can't be normal
A response spent so fast at this pace
It remains inevitable that they are just a trace
Variations have since gone within the vision
There is no tolerance with the decision
Suspicion, Suspicion is a just cause
This is the stone without the flaws
 Royally depressed with everything
These ideals have created my king

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