All my hatred fills my heart with such rage
Of friends and family both null and fake
Void of acceptance, my life is a cage
Full of regrets and enemies to make.
Ideals: thoughts that endured the passing of time, the journey of life and the touch of influence. For truth hides itself in its own end; only in hindsight does it reveal itself, a formless figure. Thus, truth must not be sought but, rather, meaning.