nothing speaks, nothing moves,
broken words, surrounded by lost
worlds of stagnation, breeding just
outside this silent door,
stripped of dignity, smothered in sorrow,
growing shadows cast upon the wall;
nothing is true,
nothing has value;
liars, hypocrites, false and fake,
vain and pretentious, self-righteous posers,
smiles and knowing looks, full of
pompous ignorance, floating flakes of mist,
gone before dusty feet hit the ground;
I cannot speak of days gone by,
I can only speak of here,
I can only speak of now,
there are better places,
there are mysteries unknown,
there is more than what
is showing;
still I wait,
still I wait;
but you never come;
there is nothing left, there is
nowhere else,
the absurdity leaves everything else behind;
still I wait,
still I wait;
but you never come.
.
.
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