It’s a sound full of fury, though it encompasses a glory full foreseen — an act in consequence, a trial that breeds an endless contempt. Full force it strives, through the aiding of our lives; I requisition excellence, a thought for breeding wellness. For with anger there’s no languor when your thoughts are constant, held. There’s this person in my mind; I feel it flow so freely — the actuality of my dreaming, in reality transposed. If words lighted through a fool’s gaze in everyday extenuation, citizens would flee for lack of order in a mind of unforeseen circumstances. Overthought can cause an explosion of what is deemed irrelevant thinking, which in time can question all — the sickly feeling in the fall — though so long lost in forced charades it doesn’t even register, but as accolades.