Somberence

Pickled by the fatherless clocks, jaded is my spirit,

for not am I without those that are kindered spirits.

Scream, though as I may, knowing no one would hear it,

chaotic tides flood the grounds, keep those you love the nearest.

Remain of light and in time we find that they were always near us.

Mouses given cookies, remain lusting for more,

what could one expect when settling four scorn.

Crowds of ghosts heard cheer us, theyre wading in the spirits.

Warring angels form demons, bring changes in tides,

push on through all of the seasons,

foolish foolery, they take without reasons.

Similar to Wagyu, one is perfectly seasoned,

if one's mind's on the line,

draw the lines and continue,

don't need to rhyme or reason.