Nicolas Donato
His heart sinks as he rethinksand remembers the words once spoken
Sitting alone in his lonesome abode
all stone cold and broken
Like cracked glass and his shattered past
smashed by his own misgiving
Caught in a web of distortion
spun with contorted misfortune and tortured living
And like iron in his breast his heart in his chest
is now hardened by advantages taken
Thrown off his feet deep into deceit
by the ones who were fake and mistaken
The walls were high but still he tried to climb them
blinded by hindsight's illusion
But the fight was abrupt because he quickly gave up
and was corrupted by anger's intrusion
So he erected a gate of misplaced hate
and a distaste for help uninvited
Fanning the fire of ire he grew weary and tired
of feeling unwanted and slighted
Now alone in his static world of trust unfurled
unraveled by mischievous fingers
It's been going on for too long and he's drawn to the song
being sung by the Harvester's singers
The night seems right to end this fight
and embrace the light of salvation
He steps off the edge but won't fall in tomorrow
as sorrow turns into elation
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