Move past
worlds preserved in glass,
With an unsurpassed knowing.
Darkness descends,
without a dare,
Donning a cloak, creeps into light.
Carves you into modern thought
And it's showing.
Will you accept this fate's invitation?
A whittler’s battle fought,
a kettle providing its steam.
And still, life's there.
But can you hold onto
the cemented failure’s jagged edges?
Or will that fall as well?
Childhood's games
all in a book's lies.
Clarity lost in a glance at a comet,
loneliness is embodied.
Grief grows through God's allowance,
And I let go.
An Übermensch's ubiquity
exists only in lore,
and my sins' sincerity
crashes down every facet of pain.
Now scarred by punishment
and memories of
a golden time.
Lies can rule,
or truth can reign.
Yet the patter of my time
matters not in history’s
amnesiac records.
Dust’s mark left,
more than my vapor’s trails
can dream to.
"And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing"
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