You must be laughing uncontrollably,

the horror etched upon face for world's sinister poetry;

Struggling to catch any grip on this deteriating ground,

at feet –  death staring hounds,

Have I finally reached the ends of my line?

Can't this measure one of the million errors bundled upon pride?

By chance a tear formed, you'd point and scrutinize,

fight to bone.... control own sight,

blaring tone – foreseeing the wail vanished dry;

Dreams sweetly nestled incubus,

closure mocking indefinite;

Twisted lore of affections,

desolate sworn of emotions;

Exhaustion may feed and consume,

freshly bright star persistent to bloom.