Maintaining to obtain an educated flow,
Pronunciation is utterance of communication as we all know.
I seek silence,
Serene guidance.
But, when air does escape from creases of lips,

If only i could be stuck in time,
Placed between the soul & mind,
Cautiously waiting for beauty rather than pain,
The dream is the name,
Darkeness,
Where the subconcious rests,
Nowhere near your touch,
Or supposed love & such,
Nowhere near the voice that once uttered his true feeling,
Or fate's card dealing,
No longer stuck in your fucking game,
But then again it kept me sane,

They say whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,
And as i sit back and ponder,
I become weak,
So the answers i seek,
Will never be found,
Because,
My skin is my casket,
And inside the withered knowledge of life,
Becomes the light at the end of the tunnel,
Out of reach from the palms of pens,
Ink splattered on the walls,
And as i crawl to my destiny,
Ink rubs my delicate skin,