I dare you to read it
Restless rests the heart of my being and a down hesitation stalls the motion of my breathing. Lines of rows and collums form the blueprints here, and tearfully, the song sings its presence to the third of this sanctuary. Skeptical of coincidence, nervous fear and saddness build uncomfortably within my body, and the quiet sobs are some what obvious. The melody is one of stern hardship, I fear the harmony matches the wallpaper, one that once showed a happy lie but to me. Gospol words lay on this pamphlet and its sounds are echoed throughout the dome shape of this church, but the only reverberations within my head are those of doubt and hopelessness. Ironic then proves this flow of words searching for a savior when an answer lays less than a millimeter away but picky is my heart. Engulfed with a wonder of eight month dissconnection, now counted chuckles me a laugh, eight months match an off-key song from just fifteen day seperation. White stranded cloth renders me a drop in my heart for memory's recollection finds its place in my archives. This scribble has now become a fun test of my hand's ability to carry thought to word, a challenge of length for fashion's sake. A minor scale has taken hold of the song, a beautiful but now sorrowful clash of emotions, and I find a glance of its tune grants me a second. Not even for a moment can I begin to guess the inspiration for harmony, and i sickly fear it's one of of spite or hatred, for once it held a light and tender flow of love and true compassion. The melody now holds an either pure sense of sad or anger, and for sanity's sake I hope the first. Now gone, I grace the floor two and take my place.