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.