In this void and isolation,
Sit Eames serves his damnation,
Neigh in his ears voices of the past,
Wrought sanity in each moment that last.
Please stop!—Shout Eames with braveries,
Beneath his ceaseless reveries,
Retardation for him is inevitable,
Henceforth, numbness is insatiable.
Whilst the time lives as is,
Forsake the lunatics,
Sought means in stampede,
Mere discovers naught awaits,
Good God! Creat’d us for greed!
Forgotten the innocent without traits,
In this void and isolation,
Sit Eames serves his damnation.
Locketh every door that once unveil’d
Refuse Eames’ present as he walk’d
Thou hast no haven herein!
Spurn’d wherever he’s within.
All the doors slow gone,
Thus Eames abideth alone.
No solitude he bears,
Pure absence of any wight,
Naught but none ought to care,
Mere presence none weight.
These isolation he wish’d to end,
He no longer able to withstand;
Poisons swallow’d,
With the hope of termination of sorrow,
Yet death neglect,
To make his mind dissect.
Rest ye’ rusty ol’ fool!
The world won’t bestow you any tool!
Albeit wield’d dagger in his hand,
Pointing towards thee who abandon’d.
Thou know not the travails I hath endur’d?
Shout Eames with eyes hollow’d.
Naked knees bruised as old rag,
Due to an endless beg,
He seeks no salvation,
He seeks no redemption.
Out of the blue,
A soft hand reach’d for him,
Ask’em to grew,
From the kneel did by him.
Is shelter is what you need?—spoken voice sneek
Suddenly terminate Eames’ bleak.
As a goddess who descent,
Radiated an impeccable scent.
With the spirit to back stood,
He finally stands for good.
Why do you take a sinner’s hands?—Eames inquisitively ask’d
At what cost one died in his sins?—said the woman thought it’s her task.
Eames fallen deeper into the pit,
A sudden urge flows in his pith.
There’s a hive and there’s a home,
Yet this one freed him from his catacomb.
Days upon, the broken man bloom,
As the slow march of his gloom,
Awaken an unbeknownst mirth,
Henceforth the absent-mind rebirth.
Pray tell, what dost thou call thyself?—Eames ask’d with fervent haste,
Julia—said the woman who’s innocent and chaste.
They wander to wheresoever they might wend.
Whilst Eames wish’d it’d never end.
Deeper known he hoped to know,
About Julia, the one he thought was faux.
Enlighten me further of thyself, Julia.
Ignore and thou’rt blessed—said Julia.
His insatiable curiosity dost leadeth to his demise,
Lead to many questions arise.
Ask’d but none answer’d,
His curiosity grew as cancer.
Once upon, Julia doth unveils,
About her story and her tales.
She was wound’d like Eames.
As well she never experienc’d dreams.
That verity, left Eames dread,
Is she just a ghost he creat’d?
Delud’d with his lunacy,
In which his brain and eyes have incoherency.
Eames’s brain illuminates,
That Julia is the one he creates.
Eames sudden epiphany
Compose a hymnody
That Eames,
Is still living in his dreams.
Whilst the world keeps forgetting,
Whilst the time keeps marching,
He is still in void and isolation,
He still sits and serves his damnation.
He is still damaged
Hence, he can’t be salvaged.
