A droplet of sorrow falls furiously downward, crashing thunderously.
It shatters the surface image of a disillusioned, self-inflicted serenity
and reveals the loose thread that will unravel our insecurities
should it be wrapped around your insipid prying fingers and be pulled.
Tug at the only thing that is left for us to hold onto and scream out
your petty vociferations that you seem to hold so dearly to your heart,
for no matter how hard you try to steal away our tattered naivete,
we will always remain indolent to your feeble attempts at marring us.
Can you bear to live with the consequences that you will bring down
upon yourself should you fulfill this redundant and barren escapade?
But then, what would be the point of that be if it was all for naught,
naught but the self-alleviation of knowing you have dilapidated
yet another chance for a life or a dream to flourish and thrive?
Then let it be decreed that you shall drown in your ignorance,
be smothered by your overwhelming, and vulgar morals,
and sink in the consequential burden of your sorrowful actions.
Let your feeble cries and forsaken pleas be lost in our judgement
so that you may be perpetually harrowed for this grievous mark
that has been inflamed within our now forlorn memories.
 
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