Rain drop centipede
Trailing down my window
I fear bugs
With too many legs
But you're a friend to my future
Telling me my past friend
Might be in my future
Youre an odd creature
Making your way
Down my looking glass
A sort of looking pass
Letting me see
Whats outside
So I dont have to be
When to be isnt the question
I am only around
When others think about me
The truth
Lies in a memory
What is to exist
But to be known
Some sort of
Commodity
Existence is currency
Bought and sold currently
I want much more
Than what I have
But I fear
The reaper comes
Before a rising sun