Epilogue

Blank what’s the thought? Where’s the notes I wrote Trivial toil, forget its no more Return, been caught Don’t take my mind It’s all I got I’d rather live Then sit and rot I say its so But I know its not Fathom, a reason, a feeling Can you create meaning? Reason for thought, reason for being What’s this world, without the feeling? Of falling descending Acting pretending A weak deception Skull for his collection He envies perfection A break in tradition Spoiled Childs ambition Hark, for he has risen All sins are forgiven As long as you give in If not, good rid dens For bad business To the waste Gone for now Soon to be replaced Or erased from the face Of this god forsaken place To be put in a box or vase To be encased enslaved To the bottom of a grave Name saved by a Stone on a hollow day