Essence of life, defined by our date of death. Remembered by beings that wish your return to this place of gloom and pretense.
Mourn one's departure as if death is not an order of life. Born, live, die we follow life's order like slaughter to a lamb. Shedded guts and fears, we one in the same.
The rhetoric question of what happens when death becomes before living. Rebel to the system, if only the system cared.
Distinguished guests; spineless social intruders dinning off pretentious conversation. Leaping with false excitement in declaration of jealousy disguised as pride. Through endless applause and over bearing signs of appreciation, I welcome you to the table of a failing society.
With great understanding of nothing, yet no understanding of greatness, I serve you a meal of teeth gripping truths, or diluted versions there of as we are not warranted the truth unless our truths are lies. A Humble side dish of compassion that never delivers amongst the starving, but feeds the rich who lay obese amongst their own silver platters of greed.
No meal is concluded without a sweet sensation of bitter realities that will always await, through fakery and pretense no man shall escape it. Your evening mask lays rested as true reflections are openly displayed to an one sided mirror. The disgust of oneself leaves one hungry for truths.
Earth, a simplistic nature of complex understanding that buries beauty underneath it's own realities.
Realities that are predermined by ancestors of past that left no hope for future life, future life that are yet to be discovered.
Life that will be struck by unattainable solutions, though solutions that brings hope. Living through lies, lies through which new promises are made.
Earth, a simplistic nature of false prophets.
— The End —