everytime i find the button that says ignore it ends up walking straight through the door. compassion is yet overrated, into misdemeanors that seem compensated. a weakness that equals tremors and nothing is what it seems, just what it must be. but the reality is that "we" are nothing but two bodies that intervene. commonly misrepresented as those that are what they seem. dreaming is the waking that i find that is mostly what is obliged. it is the state at which i feel most at peace with all the dissapointments that i reach. my wing span must not be so far, as all that's been given to me is scars. scars that are a photograph to be placed into an album that doesn't mean much more than my heart. because the scapegoat gets overlooked for all the blame that's placed upon anothers wishing well that was nothing more. pennies tossed do nothing more than make a sweet sound to the ear that's listening too closely.