Birds Swim.
Fish Fly.
People Hop, and frogs walk.
But why do I sense Autumn’s deception in my empty soul.
The implausible spirit rings throughout my heart. When the bridge that leads to nothing but the untruth of the facetious words spoken by the light’s glow. If the predicament plunges the irrational feelings, why must I write my long lasting immortality that exemplifies my despondency, regret and muse. O’ great spirit! Apprise thy’n blundering perception of what fabricates within the odious fortitude. The profound vigilance circulates her gleaming quietus. Although the throbbing theory of my brain, the secular rationality of the attempted rows of broken holes left among us