Undying Grudge
It feels as though an autumm leaf imprinted on the mind so deep it left a scar, visually indescriptive or nowhere as near vivid. It feels as though through times it came and comes as far as skies are seas it left a scar, highly apprehensive about the coins and the chamber. It feels as thought through years wasted with the combustion of crude oil and tar, only justice can bring the trees and stones alive. It feels as though some changes still stilled, and more dead die and live it left a scar, unendingly pervasive obliviously conscious of thy wicked thoughts.