Will this be how I end?
A series of fortuneless failings forging fake ideas on which I depend,
Will this be how I end?
Messy myriads of malicious and mundane men and woman of disdain for each a pain they recommend,
Is this how I end?
An audacious allegory screaming to the world with hopes in vain and civil likings I pretend,
Is this how it all ends?
The subtle cries and whimpers of the weak and weary through a touch screen connection to my friends?
Is this how my world ends?
Taking nothing with us but leaving a thousand things owned by men who pretend to give yet do nothing but lend
Is this my end?
The teetering tempting footsteps on a ledge to leap and leave nothing less, than a pavement canvas of crimson and marrow blend,
to bend my will against the curb that will not bend and send a message to a nihilistic god screaming nothing will this mend,
so then to the torturous temptations that in my mind I tend I say,
The end?