• Helpless

    A new day on the earth usually brings with it a warming hearth, but so this day doth bring with it a wave of weakening fervor to crash at the heels and send them face first into the dirt.

    It starts to stick with the mind that this may not be the best of times and realization is but a stone's throw. To the ideal sentiments of a forlorn watcher in the midst, to see corruption and agony on a personal scale.

    But help shan't come to those who have none, as the truth sets in motion a last act of desperation, throwing up their hands as they whisper a request to those above for divine intervention. Their last words pour through, the day is coming to a close.

    And no miraculous help comes, not a single hand, not one. No assistance for the meek, the timid, or the weak, as their last gasp leaves the chambers of their flesh-laden soul, they cry out in pain, but all that remains, is a callous, unforgiving, hole.