He never promised me a bit of strength
So I became bold against the night.
But I remember him.
He meant everything even when I had nothing.
He said I hollowed him out,
That he was less of a man because of me.
Because of my life and the way that I am.
So I passed on.
And even with a different name,
I pursued him just the same.
So I search.
And even when beauty is rampant,
I somehow live without pleasure or praise.
So I search.
With a lulled sense of patience
That trails in disgust.
By JBW
A Dead Language 