Failed attempts and contemplation disarray of thoughts the pen awaits the warmth of a grip the parchment lays alone and bare. You shall not, you shall never, The hissing wind singes my mind a gelid tone that stings my spine, and I tremble - compelled to cower, too terrified to blink. But hopes are merely hopes void, forever, of sense and prudence yet clad in appalling nescience benighted souls look for their insignificant dreams. So through meandering thoughts I shall wade when I let my curtains down and unnamed ghouls aimlessly wander down the silent boulevard.
You'll never be lovelier than you are now.