Strife can wither walls of strength, hearts wide open, pouring the light from the praise, I will conquer the distance, I will conjure resistance. Waiting, weeding out the strays, souls exploited, marching a path lined with graves. Great waves, waters of conscience, moon's rays holding them back from high tide. This blinding light in our heads/hands could shine through the back drop. Thoughts are hope. You've been treading water in their wake, unaware that there's much calmer waters on the other side of this misleading image, disguises repress and diminish catalysts for better days, rouge synapses exposing deceit in the way that they've cast their shadows upon us, a vast darkness thwarting the efforts of true free minds. You found the reddest lines, bounty before something right again. There's bound to be a gap in this fence somewhere so I'll drag this fallen branch across the ever rusting rails. I will persist or break my way through.