Inquisition

The echos that stain the beaten path, tell of your misfortunes. Missed opportunities pour like rain from the place you hold dear. The silence Holds truths which can never be told. Intangible nightmares haunt the visons of what you think is your future. You look to the past now. Hoping you will find a more fluorescent scene. A past which was filled with love, laughter, and care. But, the days of young men get older. As the time advances on, the things you hold close change. You fail to keep touch with what is important. You are left to ask yourself: Have I done right? The truth is there is no right. The query is if your endeavor was purposeful to another.