The grass isn’t greener.

The air is thick and the clouds lay low.

A dried moat surrounding a once prosperous abode, dominates the landscape.

Within the trench lie memories scorned into the earth by hate and acrimony.

Virtue left unprotected, unnourished.

Here I find myself exiled by transgressions made unto myself.

Yearning for the lavish forthcomings of faith and assurance I felt I could not attain.

A withered mind defeated by ignorance and self doubt.

A land of my own making. A desolate empty place of my minds dwellings. Thoughts of little worth and self deprivation.

I no longer wish to be here.