Withered dreams cast into a silhuette on the wall of a childs room.
their cause there only to foreshadow a life of treacherous consequence ahead.
Malfeasant acts commited against the soul of the young life,
Wishes Will exist, only to have all unfuffilled, like a failed pregnancy attempt,
in the morning, light will wash over the room and cast aside the truths of the shadow, but all days come to an end.

a Window of opportunity is now, the summer of the rebirth of my hopes, for I am to exit my cacoon of education, and be breathed upon the world, but alas, I can only fall short, but It is a good feeling to be falling,

Few things hold true to their nature, only the darker things stay consistent, and the lighter issues fall into the dark, into an ever emerging state of gray, deep dark swirls consume all outlying areas and blend them into the doomed region of liquid that is life.

I am idle.
I hold my arms in place, my head tucked down to my chin.
No 'Mergance do I stirr, no signs that I live, I am a fly on my own wall, an observer to others, and a practioner to none. And while it is that I am cast unto the world to achieve whatever goal I may find, I am cast from it, by some unknown voice, a mysterious calling, Or an unnamed fear that i am not for that path.