Melody of cacophonous melancholy— echoing in the wake of ripped romance, Aflame long the wrath of a chained eagle— over the aching scars on its grand wings, yet see Glaring umber irises rise even in downpour waltz— soul standing ever so strongly, Nevertheless, like Rome and Greece— indeed a day is a jest to build a thing, After blue moons, I hereby wish— may you soon be at ease, unchained and alive.
