Tiny alterations will not save you now,
The roots are far to deep,
The ground is far to hard,
A pickaxe is the answer,
Smash it into the mound,

additive direction,
To help improve the taste,
Applied stench of misdirection,
I hope the maggots have their way,

I wonder,
Was it worth it?,
The spinning round in space,
The idle minded creatures,
The few that lit the way,

You must decide,
Be a god,
Be a fly,

You must revile,
Be the smile,
Be the scythe,

Under the guise,
That your twitch was a life,

No breath is left,
That isnt tainted with mithe,

This fog I detest,
The flow and the ebb,

Sad excuse for a future,
Or an excuse to be sad,
Why not pick yourself up?,
Then keep tilling dead land,

A sculpted version of ‘right’,
Will never be wrong,
Until the oven is lit and the swelter kills god,
I hate the notion,
Of men in the sky,
If one did exists,
We should put out his eyes,

I dare you to see the world,
In a way you cannot change,
The way it really is to be,
Not was or maybe claims,

Try it you’ll see,
The tripe of disease,
The bloated human species,
Does not deserve hands to feed


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