I turned the page to witness the hidden bones bared in black and white passages;And at once my pocket became too heavy,With the wrenching weight of a year long compass revealing it’s true size.For it had held a promise that could not be kept,So the directions given could no longer be trusted or true north assuredAnd so I fell, sinking with dizzying misdirection into grave dug depths.Directionless with feelings I was forced to resent,That all my happiness was corrupted, surreptitiously broken, and bent.