What hath wickedness wrought
Scared to have a real thought
For submissively
Venerate
Sorrow
Do I
And permissively
Wait
On tomorrow
To die
In the mind
Resides peace
But unrest never sleeps
And if food for thought feeds the brain
Mine overeats,
It devours
Digests
And expels
The excess
In some monstrously
*******
Ego-death  
Mess
And repressing
Ensuing
Onslaughts of forlorn
Is my fear
That from one
Into many
I’m torn