I've grown so weary over these bland days
Of derelict caverns in the smiling youth
Engrossed within this perpetual phase
Of this disassociation from will to mouth
Its vain to be kindred with a free spirit
When you're the only person to hear it

These unending conversations with no reply
Have left me content with an arbitor silence
With my questions and answers in short supply
This depravity ridden with failing patience
I could write a fitting quote that is all my own
But,it's better to be stepped on than left all alone

I once heard those words in the presence of god
He laughed in my face with a screech in my ear
Shoved hell in my view and I gave him a nod                                                    
For the terror it shows is all that we fear
This is written on walls with blood as the ink
I saw it that day and I began to think

What will we take away from this earth?
Can memory live longer that a thought?
Could we remember our life before birth?
Or will we just blend into void and rot?
I begin to ask what is the greater release?
The pleasures of relief or to merely cease?

... And,These weeks go by without a single toil
I wake every day just as the sun will set
This world turns and waits to be spoiled
I fail to see how resistence can be met
When existence is naught but the dawn of the end
A handful of dust and our pride to defend