And for a superior necrobump, I'll drop some stuff here.
A third pile,
Of shattered elitisism.
Thoughts unwarranted.
Realization,
Never thinking one was wrong.
Living after;
Wondering,
Did I mistake? Am I a fool?
Lest we see,
Disaster? Conclusion? Beginnings?
Miracles do not apply, not here,
For then we are lost.
Fleeing of the realization,
Ignorance.
Bliss?
I will believe it when I see it.
Cluttered,
One's thoughts never sorted, never recorded, never found,
For what else do we live for then?
Other then what is now?
Lacking of what we truly want, what we truly see,
Vanity,
Never lacking, but never enough.
As such, we continuously go on, making more,
Wanting more.
As to ever wonder if we truly reach the top, in hopes that it makes us happy…
But is it the need that makes us happy as opposed to the means? Do we want a challenge to succeed?
And does that success cause us to lust for another challenge?
And what does that leave the ones who have accomplish all through nothing?
Do they, too, lust for the challenge?
Or do they never lust for it, never having experienced it?
Or have they been already committing to a challenge, want to achieve heights even they never made to before.
As to a fault.
Perhaps even sacrificing existence, to reach it, of others and their own.
As if they believe there is no perceivable upper limit, but still one in place.
As to not jeopardize their will to continue.
Seeing out in the nuclear rain,
Life as twigs and worlds atwain.
Wonderful world, resting on its divide,
Destroyed once its nations collide.
Each nation, metaphorical muscles flex,
All now gone, in an attempt to annex.
Lying in debt and wars and infliction,
By whoever caused another state of world confliction.
See us, back at our current day,
Hope that something keeps this crisis at bay.
Lest we continue, to drop even lower,
Relations between nations go more sour.
What can we do to flee,
When the whole world is caught in such a lunacy?
Brought by the weapons, of fuse and fise,
Was it the man who found it, who brought us to our demise?
Was it the target? The attacker? The bystanders? Them all?
Can we even place a blame so tall?
As it could be foreseen, our life with green, may end without notice.
Perhaps with all beauty, much like the dandelion and the lotus.
Author
Topic: Iceball's general art thread: For posting my stuff on to. (Read 974 times)