the hollow knocks, as throughly sent
like the horn of an ending; to see the end
to what is the purpose of life?
happily enjoying temporary pleasantries
blind to the knowledge; as I was dancing at my own grave
to some the turtle has won,
to me seeing the loss as it mattered
surely patience is the key; it is all mankind's answers
hope the only imagery, so fake and yet beautiful
hope, hope; was the enemy of it all
to the man who comes across the poem;
beauty is the one who cares for you; love takes care of you;
when you are sick, in deep pain;
their voice comes like jumpstart in the heart;
every beat full felt; adrenaline;
and you wake up; yet again blind to the knowledge
you were dancing at your own funeral;
Discord