Between the layers of daupt and shame,
stands a wall of dark and pain
caused by being wild and tamed
by acts of faults and game.

Don’t know what to think.
In the mind of dust and mist,
a vision blurry and still
choking from droughts of bliss.

Fail to loot a breather,
but cannot excuse my behavior
for it doesn’t soothe the danger
inforced by the blues of anger.

Cannot untie the turns
nor can align those hurt
for I assigned the burns,
but will reside with those worth.