Rowing my boat with barely enough propulsion.

I consulted the peculiar idea of harboring calm with oriented compulsion.

Droopy eyes, sagging muscles,the audaciousness I battled with comes to the tugging trial.

If truth could be concocted it may have accessorised with a sharp tip pointed vial.

For once I arrive at the juncture with no weapons to wield,how do I go around?

Indomitable screams, shattered glasswares, walls scraped with thundering frustration,a tolerable venting surround.

Tears coursing down without a befitting excuse,an alarm of faulty generosity or unleashing the venomous frustration.

Stashed unnerving sentiments,muffled cries...