With fulcrums tarnished it fluctuates vulnerable

The entrance squawked and wailed from years of lack of care
 
Illuminating surrounded by the meadows and woodlands
 
The meadows smelled with the decomposing of kindling, of existence
 
The woodlands garnish with a bizarre lure
 
Summoning you to them.
 
With a kinked extremity of troubled foregone conclusion.
 
 
 
In the middle of the carcasses,
 
Your senses clasps what you hail from
 
The towering lifeless pasture, delicate to the touch,
 
Moves to the other side to let you pass
 
Finally, you have got hold of the embankment of splintered terrain
 
That contained your paragon.
 
 
 
Cautiously ever so prudently your hand inclined
 
Finally, you mislay what bantam tolerance you had left, keen to picket your entitlement
 
Wearing the aberrant smirk like a disguise that is currently a chunk of you
 
The matching smirk that the entrances unfastened for
 
Using fingers clamp together compactly in a wad
 
From one place to another the ideal twig vivacious with existence, you heaved.
 
You heaved on that desolate obsession nonetheless it would not dislodge
 
No aggregate of swearing or corporeal force
 
Could eradicate this unique splendor
 
From the uninhabited meadow of degeneration.
 
The bud could not be ruffled, pulled up, twig troubled, existence demolished
 
                                                    
 
Nonetheless, you longed to pull on
 
Your subliminal encryption was overtaken by viciousness.                                
 
A blameless youth evolved into a mammoth.
 
By the time you understand your blunder it was too late
 
The matching racket that welcomed your entrance has also padlocked your destiny
 
It was the wailing of a glutton at carnage
 
It was the entrance
 
                                                                                                                    
 
The entrance on or after which you originated,
 
Heading back to the existence you left in arrears
 
The entrance climaxes, by no means to be revived
 
Now recognizing what is to derived of your deceived existence
 
Fingers to the dreary the heavens
 
One final interval in a still gesture
 
By means of the desiccated lifeless air pilfering the existence from inside you, you buckled
 
You finally arrived in your correct dwelling
 
In the midst of the carcasses