"wash not woes , but high them more than tide of drinks, for knives drawn at water splits nothing..."

Haunting-s from one angel, finally moved me. As I shrink into recession...retract into calm. Backed into impotency. Yet in reason there I deny defeat, no fray of stance or confidence. But pleads... that do not force, but begs against hopes much as nil, relentless... pleads lay fray yet to a much much earful audience. As knife drawn at water splits nothing, I was mesmerised into doubts ...doubts to the right to inculpate, as tyrants. As we all are, given the chance. And now I stand shameful, ashamed that I am ashamed to bully. The vile of a merciful murderer. The sympathy from the predator at it's prey. I lower my head in lowliness, like a man that peed in his pants, facing the mob of mockery, tears of a limp wimp flesh. The incapability. and after all it comes to this.


"wash not woes , but high them more than tide of drinks, for knives drawn at water splits nothing..."

.adapted from a chinese idiom.