The son of a skeleton does not confide,
With each and every line I write inside,
When the death of the eyes is asked,
I cannot answer with anything but a rasp.

Times two, times three,
Watch very carefully,
As we all pay the fee,
To ask a life of more than being-
I leave- not free-

"Introspect" I tell my frame, who couldn't really care less,
I will try and stare through the mesh,
Which seems to mask the mess,
On the ground the son was sown,
He grew and grew until be became stone.

Equals two, Equals three,
Minus four, Minus five,
The son of a skeleton,
Is shot full of sedative,
Is this definitive?