Shane W.- Age: 20

12 October 2008

Fettered to Cradle

Despondecy from the shivering trees.

I am the canvas from which I shroud tainted paint.

Concise world, everlasting rocking cradle.

I'm fettered to this resentment, a hole... a pit.

I've built these facades of apathy although I don't care,

For if I remove them I will be exempt from this world.

This exegesis of my disdain is shunned, therefore I am.

Soon thereafter I won't be but nothing more than this:

A Lycanthrope whose inabilities are inept of the apt forthcomings.

I've been shackled! I've been torn! I've been worn!

Opt to this decisive ultimatum for which of my concerns.

The threat isn't mine alone, but emits to all.

Grievances of mine are forewarned.

Surfing through the channels radiating electrical impulses,

But only through my brain. As I rock I clock,

I flog, I torment, and later I have reached:

The summer of my discontent.

Breaching/breaking down the walls of mute understandings.