A life of many, A life of not. To know any, To know rot. I have seen, for what I have not. I have done to know, That I cannot. Escape my rage, For I have wrot, Is my own cage. A nightmare, That I broken. A sage of mirrors, For I have sought. No reflection, No dedication, Anything I have knot. Everything is futile, For it is eternally mine.
I had some musings of a circle and entrapment, to live like oneβs died, so I wrote this poem.