Sinful eyes stare northward judging me and my path,

twisting what I set behind me in my past,

misconstruing my monopoly of best intentions into a sea of angry moments lost in the inner monologue of a broken child,

a paradox of unquestionable answers that are given in rhythmic fashion like a muted dog wearing a collar of electricity around its throat,

and as my best memories are auctioned off like a bashful bachelor who hides a deceptive blade next to his semi erect cock,

 the world worships the fake and the flamboyant,

whilst ignoring the desperate and pure who need the hand of hope instead of a fistful of hate,

where do we go when all that is left of us are ashes from a cabin lost in the woods of hate and imperfection…