lack of prenatal

this world is a world is a page that we know how it ends

on the interior side the entrance is straightforward yet held forth

cold all around but the simple warmth of together denied the same

chase the chord and harmony in the face of the fear and of a sigh

one day will all this grow old and decrepit decaying though the fire

the cares and the things led only carries so far to the distribution

long ago this path was set aright but the seeming imprecision continues

nagging and swelling hold for service fortifying a rotting timber

fragile trails hold back the forest just enough for the ending to come

unfailing and unfading is far from what i deserve

i deserve?