Nihilistic Reviews

The diverse directions come to pass, While good things always go so fast. A casted shadow driven by your mind, And the lack of air, means it’s time. The soulless being is drowned by love, For the loss of heart, will fly like a dove. Wallowing pity is gone to those that end last, And the room of the dying soul creates a draft. The loss of feeling, feels so fine, I still can’t find the straight and narrow line. A room filled of useless stuff, Like the life we live, that’s never enough