There is a crime that
goes beyond
denunciation.
There is a sorrow,
a hollowness
that weeping
can't even begin
to symbolize.
There is a failure in
life
that topples and
belittles all
success.
When trying to focus on
life
is like looking through
a kaleidoscope,
when sounds liquify, and
odors take shape and
waltz
to sullen night music,
life must end.
Life must end because
a profit can no longer be
ripped from your
hands, your knowledge,
your punctuality, or your
dedication to
the machine.
Ever since I can remember,
I sensed the
randomness of it
all.
I fought against it
I had faith; I believed.
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 8:23 AM UTC
There is a crime that
goes beyond
denunciation.
There is a sorrow,
a hollowness
that weeping
can't even begin
to symbolize.
There is a failure in
life
that topples and
belittles all
success.
When trying to focus on
life
is like looking through
a kaleidoscope,
when sounds liquify, and
odors take shape and
waltz
to sullen night music,
life must end.
Life must end because
a profit can no longer be
ripped from your
hands, your knowledge,
your punctuality, or your
dedication to
the machine.
Ever since I can remember,
I sensed the
randomness of it
all.
I fought against it
I had faith; I believed.
Depression is hell
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