If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.

Self preservation
makes enough sense,
until I rise
from ancient fears.

A smile
can't crack
to
predators
on the
attack.

A smile
in heart,
in
spirit, soul,
against
the world.

The cruel will turn to worms.
I might scream, nail under nail,
but I'll not have failed myself.

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may get to you,
but,
so what?

The cruel will turn to worm
food,
And they may come for you,
but,
so what?

My time is mine,
and I, don't have time
to fight systems
of imaginary lines.

(I paint them)

I'm surely turning, slowly,
into worm food, too.
I don't want to waste my time
with you, fighting.

If I should end
then,
well, I guess that's
that.