Handprints

Regrettably this day is not over, it sits distastefully on my mind, clouding mirrors of my soul. Dark fortresses cannot relieve the overflow of despair, rainbows will not color themselves for pleasure. All is measured in distance, the farther the better; allotting no renditions to scatter and become the essence of a human form. Tracing hand prints across walls of time, cryptically attempting to read pictures left behind. Sounds do not penetrate an inner core of self-proclaimed forgiveness. Allowable graces can be no more upon this ground of hatred. Promises banned, forgotten, left to rot, decidedly on the side of hell. Raining tears upon the vast matter within, calculating the resistance it must surpass to become a precious item of beauty.