Everything is momentary to a monumental failure;
Monetizing the currency to a means of life
All in the means of life being momentaneous of one’s strife
And it honestly takes a lot of strife, to inspire my own self
To continue on to write — some days, it feels like it’s all coming
To be my very last moment, of forcing myself to inspire
Someone; anyone willing to connect through the wire
Building fences around the ideas we all seem to like:

We all like to be heard; as countless failures to listen
We all like to be anchors of advice; less the ones to gain wisdom
We all like the appeal of more life; dead cold to life’s experiences
We all like the good cards we’re dealt; but would prefer the odds
Of ourselves being the one’s quietly dealing it
We all like the idea of a superhero; something that supersedes faith
We all like the hope of us being connected by love; but what’s
A wicked heart, if it doesn’t sometimes love to hate

Everything we try to do, everything forced into my eyes
Shows me everything we want to do, is often just a waste.