Time

It’s contemporary, conflicting, a multitude of perceptions weighing you down begging for comprehension. Where do you go from here? "We’re all beggars simply telling other beggars where we found bread." The game is easy to play, cajoling and tainting, an ecstasy of personality. I miss the simple days, I miss the simple dreams. Those hopes clipped now, wings dropped and hearts lost. I miss soul. Soul flowing, soul filling, soul lifting, soul escaping. Cast aside the shallow tremors that break us apart. I am that book with a different cover.

Judge and rip those assumptions from clarity. Leatherbound and weathered pages. I am that book with a different cover.