All we lead

is a choice of two things

to harbor the mind

and grow in peace filled paper backs

or all to stop this growth

and die an infinitely poor son

to our whole abysm of creation

while every day is filled with pain

but the mind is so open and far from thought

Just BEING is a gift

here is now

and now can last eternity

with eyes as red as sin


Why schedule our days

on months why we play

play in a dance with death each day

to forget what we know

and hide behind how far we can grow

but in the end it doesn't really matter

it is far from our choice

today is today

so why do we wait

in these closed, boxed squares

with morals shoved deep down throats

"go here, do that, well there's no hope for that."

"get a drive. Somehow everyone has something."

It always ends

but never begins


I'm lost in the grass and sun as I lay,

and I have no idea what to do,


The End

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