Texty: Rest Among Ruins. Lackluster.

Stranded it feels to be alone amidst plenty/ and identifiably so as forlornness floods awareness and thoughts submerge/ as I wish to wash away this cathartic residue/ and I fear these words will not be clear/ unrevealed, these thoughts of Grey/ in taking this brief moment to collect these scattered thoughts and harbor their trailing dreams/ I fear this is the end of the counterweight/ and I fear these words will not be clear/ unrevealed, these thoughts of Grey