“You’re really coming this time?” asked the doubtful voice aligned with hope, triggered by the possibility of sucess.

“Forseen difficulties have proved just that, difficult,” the outcasted figure replied in his infamous alterations.

“Money has you clutched tight once again, I gather?” the voice attacked with shattered hope and fufilled disapointment. “Then time challenged by a year, the only change has been the omitting my false beliefs, filled with mangled tears of reluctant resent. ‘Tis with the upmost regret that I shall turn my back to thee, and with accepted repitition of thy fated actions, render silenced thoughts of hidden anger and muted opposition of which require only the slightest disturbance before proceeding onto their pillage into respect I once bore for thee.”

“You expect too much. ‘Tis blinding thee into submission of dillusional beliefs of possible success from this ounced chance of probability.”

“Nay. T’was the former, in which I daresay this case fell true. Now, ’tis merely thy failure to initiate an act of happiness. You seem intent on defying this, and crashing the once high hopes and aspirations. I refute my many-twiced acclaimed love for thee, I cannot take thy unintentional unwillingness of cooperation and abiding. Hail and forewell, may thy life’s hourglass sand be long filled topside.”