All of this;
This birds and the bees
And the moons other, hidden face,
Cannot be real.
All of this
Pain and judgement,
It kills me.
I am all the corpses of time.
All of this;
The shock on my face.
I have lost my tongue.
These backward people only
Go, go, go towards
Pain.
These rose colored glasses have
Been shattered into pieces
That now room the earth,
Looking, seeing what I see: pain.