Fetter

There is freedom in being hated, everyone's fears and need for answers, temptation and knowledge bleed into a disgusting form, are you any different?...We beg and plead for forgiveness by the ones we hurt, we hurt because we wanted more in that second than our friend or family...In all hearts and minds...we would waste away that companionship for a petty second...

We are all built from the things we've lost...
and some whispers of abuse and broken souls echo for centuries, a thousand lives and weak spirits all converging on a single body and mind, tattered from everyone before them...
what good is a mankind's gaze, when demand for life ceases.

My death will be a promise like many, a demand from a God's lips, to our earth,
in his slurred madness and accent of despair I hope...

Is it a curse or a blessing, to linger past your time in a world? There are no stars here within this charcoal sky, just dust of the now lost shining lights, where they dim, you've begun to burn bright...I find the void of death to be tranquil, a humbling experience in all my worldly distractions, and yet still. I walk with thoughts of anxious collapse of the city of Gold built in my head...
I can hear celestial screams echo through the night, where homeless scratch at bug bites and grind their teeth between dreams of another day of sun over exposure, though life is not always so forthcoming for great things, An outstretched cat sleeps soundly on her velvet pillow, vomiting excess while her owners bicker about what's for dinner every night...
I find the weak rich...