Hindsight

A retorical dillemma, mocking his soul. He's thinking clearly now... The blindfold of misconception, his affection. Heavy breathing cuts the tension. Presuming his fate, he strived for the top. The blistering cold, never caused him to stop. Never needed any guidance, his work was his romance. An endless persuit. He never calmed and smelled the roses. Shiny armor, disguised as a suit. He's a morbid form of Moses. Now his aboliotionism caught him up, abruptly hushing his preach He's looking for the higher ups. But silence cannot teach. acknowledging his reflection a narcicistic comprehension. Now everything's slow, he knows it's time to go. A single tear pleads for mercy He's thinking clearly now... Valentine.