A chance is all I sought, just a chance, but maybe it was not meant to be, for I saw in a single day, all my hopes flee.

I’ve beckoned for help, but none was sent, I’ve prayed for an end, but still it keeps going. To what end will this disaster be finished? That I do not know. I try to induce it any way I can, but my attempts fall far short, and yet between the lines I see a story of triumph and celebration. It’s a short story, not one that I wrote, but it’s a story that means nothing to me without all the notes. It is probably best to leave it alone, but alas, I have never been one to let anything just be.

I cannot share with you the story, only my view of the morality, and maybe I myself will gain some insight into this bizarr reality. Forgive my candar, it is not intentional, I just cannot divulge any more than I must, nor can I tell of that which has not been told. Too bad orginality is worth something, because I do not have a drop left in me. This tale is of a man who discovers the answers to each question attacking his mind, he finds them and takes them and uses them to end his insanity. But in the end he has nothing left to live for, except the pain he knew was coming, yet could not stop, and the riches enough for anything, without a desire in the world. Read more