And no matter what I do to prevent my eyes from lullabyes, even for the brefiest of rest they frequent my images and thoughts.

Excruciating is it to reconcile on past memories, between these tragidies another calling howls at the moon for yearning. .

Pushing them aside again, into that abyss I left all my sins, but today they grew and rose up from their slumber invading all that I was to have curiously took from the midnight thunder. . .

I cannot rid myself of old acquaintences, only bear the penalty of there ethereal eternal sentences. .
is there something good to be taken, or has everything they once were just to be forsaken.