At last.

So softly does a solemn soul cry deeper;
Insane asylum sly like a snow fox lingers.
I wish my hands were clean but these ordinary things became a vice; A worthy reaper.
Set on my own dice a counter for no wise thinking would appear.
And it would appear...
Held lofty and with fervent hold, my keeper.
Escape my fate why? Is my whole demeanor.
Dreams don't mean a thing if you are breaking at the seams.  
Advice is no Victor.
Been here for too long but everything bygone has grown immense and dark at last.