Lost is the sound
of breaking hearts,
in a hollow existence.
Beating in murmurs
of blue, against a
crying sky.
Grounded in a meaningless
life, where mere mortals
sip of pleasures disgust.
Calling goes unfulfilled,
when trust dies,
and faith lies dormant.
Ones wings insignificant,
in a world where all
wear breaking hearts.






9 old applause
