Trapped in this on going vortex, The feelings all floating in every amicable direction. Every plausible thought of taking a breath, Seems to shatter the thoughts that empty out into the vocal box Only to be heard by others as a miniscule atomic pin drop, Silenced by the other voices. He just wanders, every whim that comes across his mind Is smothered out by the voices drenched with wine. He is unheard, forgotten, cold, he lies there, itting in the cold. Alas the glimmer, a shining beacon of hope, The lightnight that illuminated the night skies. He reaches for it, only to find that its a firefly, Sparking it's last flashes of light