It is in this solitary place I writehow I fill each and every nightall alone with my quill in handin this quest to one day understand While I again smooth the pageagain get in touch with another agein touch with...

Seems I live here on the brinkalways salting my bitter inkwith these tears I now crynever sure of the reason why Abandoned here on the pageas if discarded by some agewhen poetry always made senseregardless of its imperfect tense How the...