Infuriated fists have little to say,

Violated souls stuck, have lost their way. 
Disillusioned, pretty things, 

Insignificantly made, wax wings. 
Provocative winds blow away the autumn leaves,

Sitting indifferent under the the tree that heaves. 
Devastated the white silence broken,

Revolted breaths, a life’s token. 
Despair is but a blissful night,

Withdrawn to the repugnant, and shivering fight. 
Unrestrained bloated, fickle greetings,

Hidden away from massive blue and black beatings. 

Abandoned cries, 

Teary eyed remorseful goodbyes.