i woke up with a tinge of regret my left eye sprung a thin rivulet but what i dreamt, i never could get to hold its form before it reset i've lost my dreams for seven years straight and left my morns an empty estate a void with none of pigment nor shade no sound nor scent; just drifting and grayed but once a while, the feelings remain as i wake up; though i try in vain to grasp its rhyme or reason, again, it melts away, dissolved by the rain o how i wish that i knew for whom my grieving heart does whisper in tune i'm left with hollow outbursts and gloom confused and cold i come first of June
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