Touchdown for the blind.
But a silence for the wretched.
So much normalcy abounds.
Where does the heresy come from that instills the weak with a bone to bury?
So much is the truculence of the undead that there is really a world that is here but less of a chance for the fool to marry his own orchestra of heavenly ways.
So where does the battlefield go when the orchestrated endure less than a merit and more than a storm?
What is the merriment of the ages that today is a time that we avail not but travail upon the weak, sick and challenged?
So much choice in this new world, yet the choices are narrowed by the bleak and sick.
So what do we choose for this passion that we choose-
When today is a way of life,
And tomorrow is just a fleeting passion of the sword that will not cut but will always guard against evil.
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