Swallowed beneath the surface,

Is a hollow humbled face?

Scarce within reality,

Faced to the depths of its fatality,

Amending to regroup its self,

Surviving through dust with myself,

Existing just to be alive,

Justifying face of its mystic drive,

Lumps of its wellness,

Mobbed by its numbness,

Crucially dictated by wits,

Of a teary eye  through  a deep pit,

Silenced for a reason,

But will dwell upon the season.