The last bitOf sanityHas been spared and savedBy the human race

That it is not bloodBut spirit waterThat courses through our veins

I retainThose smallElementsIn bottles –And the bottle capsAre just the trailWith no clearBeginning

GoingBack andForthBetweenHereAnd the valleyOf the deadTo seekHidden answersTo eternalQuestions

I was in loveWith every part of herThe partsI knewAnd the partsI didn’t

The verses are eternal, darling,But I am not

And hope was an oath I swore never to take.

Darling,I am an insane poetI could have killedFor much lessThan this;But insteadI choseTo writeThis poem

The game of writing wasn’t fair.

Lips parted in halfbleeding of human remorsesighing, knowing there’s no endto it all; more sufferingmust come before salvation.