Residue of Substance

           A ziplock bag presence crystal gems...A paradox of hidden. Curiosity questioning this novelty in hand. A war of personal choice. Not claiming pity. Self-destruction, free will of decision, fortitude I gave. Decorate is my tombstone heart, a veteran standing in his grave. Cold rains slashing old age. Knowing I the enemy novice of once young...Must pay the dues to earn the death of a fool. Dirge is the sadden hum that rains. For cold hail is the bullets to even karamics score.