Remember the Clouds

What is in his eyes that conceals truth? 

He lies repentant in smoke screens of slander. 

 Torn, isolated, cut off at the bane of youth. 

 The dainty, sweet regard to bystander. 

 Why do things come rushing to an end? 

 I the phantasma overpasses and collapses. 

 I walk along the pass by the abode of florets and pretend. 

 Time breaks, moments on lapse. 

 The mist and cheerful noise come to a foot. 

 Gawk at the foul blank ceiling wall and stare. 

 Educe the feeling of unconsciousness and input. 

 The times spent through the air are to be bared. 

 However, the skin is forever numbing shoes

 And not of all will overcome the mind.