I strain for concise sight
Lacking spirit, I clutch barbs for resilience.
In dismal times,
I close my eyes n search for brilliance.

Beauty still lives,
But must be created not segregated.
Inactive intellects,
Living subdued and seperated,

I see the sightless
I have a light wrist,
N thus I must write quick
In the nights mist
If I have any hope left to fight this

Abundance of ignorance
It exists to breed the dense
So I condense to spawn sense
Get my head incensed so that I can raise the fence

The limp lack function
Incapitated and brain faded
Soul contorted, dreams distorted and mind aborted.