Hopes have envisaged the impending future, and it is bleak.
Dreams have unfettered the volatile past, and it is astray.
To incur blame on oneself, is to concede another.
To herald doom on oneself, is to caress another.
Feelings are once inclement, yet currently insipid.
An intrigue once impregnable, yet currently susceptible.
Punishment, for ostentation is to be neglected in oblivion.
Eulogia, for lucidity is to be reveried in nirvana.
An insight beforehand should illuminate things.
So things wouldn't be brimming with regret now.
But an imminent, looming aftermath shouldn't be not too soon...
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