Striving to be better humored than the weather round me,
Caressing Its cheek as it sternly speaks.
Sick of the mendacity;
I'm ignoring the storms hollowed shrieks.
Are we slaves to sensation,
Donning obsessive ***** eyes,
Who praise the fallen pioneers who stalked their own demise?
Are we all alone and lost inside;
Devoid of all sense
Of foreseeable purpose?
Hushed cryptic words through an emerald mine;
Oblivious to the surrounding eminence.
Can't say how long this will last,
Itching desires, searing deep within;
Continuing backward on this destructive path.
Allow me freedom from my sins-
Let me reveal my secrets.