Voice carries little sound anymore,

personalities split upon staggered sword,

caught within own swindled ward –

Don't know what my mood will be today,

a dirty colored array,

Would you help to make it change?

Didn't come with a form of warning –

thousand wishes to have emotional scars scrapped out for sorting,

.... I suppose that's how one gets to learning;

Though –

Something about who I was changed when hazel swooped mine,

arms carry such an effort for my own troubles laying benign,

not a fault that none carry for tears I reserve for waver times.