To Achzelf ~ Nmenomic Downing ~
My dear lonesome dove, once more gone venture,
Pray tell me, tell you, yet handsome bidding?
A doll top-still swore never departure,
Thus done they statch, lonesome shall; due doing.
Thought not lonesome; raised plethora of hope,
And limpsey gospel grinds, do passion port.
Folk's Death pledges thou eternally loop
From prayer's come wilting roses resort.
To become for truth; dazzling sealed dove-self,
To anoint for birth; phantom vains thine half.

Middle school is an odd age. It is an age for truth and lovers. To grasp the truth of youth, mighty yell, mighty swell. He did though, but little did he know had he learned the long wrong hard boner. And to this wet and this dry summer time's spent confused to acquaintances never diffuse. What did they see in Jimmy? What did the Frames ever so resilient at judgment's course? Never truth, never stout. The worst and least condition they could is to leave him be to oblivion. To Jimmy's ever unknown depravity itself as its dark age. And never he thought does the little birds remember? Not until he provoked Mona Lisa. Deemed true to legends to come, true love compels the impossible sanity, and, as sensible as he was, he finally knew. And all that is left is to purge himself. And to this day, the only thing that change of him was his compassion towards people of power, superiority amongst people, and, the joy of true compliments nor life-stance kind, he'll be ever wary.