COLD DESERT

Turning in a parallel mist for salvation. Enduring the freezing rage of perception. For would I have give up? Should I have fallen into the dug hole of rejection? Of wealth I presume. Pirates of woes cross not my part For why should that be? Leaned in a grieving formation I blame the soul maker for my creation. Peace? What I imagine could be my last nature. Pirates of doom search for my howling wind. Trembling foots,I run for my salvation Wishing I have known before embarking on this forever imagination.