Is there someone that would dare delve past the utter clutter that abounds and surrounds this sphere to unravel the virtue found in here<?
The introduction to my induction had a technical malfunction thus aborting the junction.
What I speak here is what I seek here; instead what I found is my profound fear.
Nothing I fear, thus here is my fear within the vacuum of this sphere.
Haunted if I don’t, and daunted if I do proceed without a lead or read into lines that confines the rhymes.
Can I cut the rut in cookie cutter clutter to the crux of the matter?
I found what I was not looking for; more of the same mundane from which I wish to refrain.
I complain like heavy rain to release strain on my overcast brain.
I am cynically sad and critically bad in a world gone mad.
I rage in a full range of electronic motion blending an ancient notion in my eclectic potion.
I want to come clean and burst out into a new scene, yet the heavy clutter keeps my disposition in the gutter.
I was in it to win it, until all my progress was at a stand still in the face of chronic disgrace.
The enigma does correspond beyond my capacity of comprehension and tenacity.
The thing ends on a dissonant which for now is the only constant.