Wail

Circles circles
Round and round
Kept in a routine for fear of the drowned
Slowly slow stand in fear.

Fear is a beautiful thing my dear.
Wild free loose and strong.
Broken jaded cradled and flawed.
Tis the nature of all.

Whispered secrets in silent hours.
No one knows the eye's desire.
Waiting waiting for none shall come.
Rise and fall.
Nothing at all.