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
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