Poetic license..
Mind the terminal.
Departing. Worst sign
Is a soul that echoes silence.
Past rings truth behind it.
Misery a baggage claim
That's worth
A bitter silence...
Trying within world
Deprived of life two sick for crying...
And list with eyes so fixed on
Terms of dying...
So surely I
Emerge a tool of words of kindness..
They still cant see the me
Behind these curtains
There terms are blindness..
Is he one of the few they give this drug
Endured to curb their violence.
But mayhem molds the lies
I spin which keep it inside us.....
I'm not one of them
So fuvk the lies this time
Im honest