Plead with myself to forget the past,

they may grasp most of which all I have,

body; spirit is played upon in laps,

this old soul never will see other fingers to pass;

Illusion bares no needed fairness,

lacerations beaming of loud cherish;

Under, scolded wind,

you go sit; wait; sterling eyes burst from dimmed,

try squirming away unscathed,

they care not a rescind,

wrecked souls hide not what's previously engraved.