Crown of the valley.
As it thunders through the valleys of our souls, a hostile force arises and duplicate itself as a collective cancerous cell. This is not our cut-throat. Our wounded souls are. A dimness agglomerated in the already flawed beings. Assembled by the emptiness of a broken frame of mind and blindness of eye.
Fear our pillow. Confusion to tug us in. Hope and illusion - a blanket in the squatter camp. Poverty an anthem of hearts - couple miles apart.
Mix your tears with clay and bless their eyes with the rainbow in your soul. Crown the valley and be made whole.