Try to find inspiration tucked behind a wall full of earthly plaques, some not worth mentioning but nonetheless heavy.
Heavy enough to weigh true self,
What does become of it all?
We’ve all seen it’s reflection; all tasted the poison before the purge.
Urges all over to counterfeit and be counted in multiples of him, her and nature takes its place.
Under this great scheme,
All where we can grow, dream, repent
And still go back to the childhood cul- de- sac,
Running circles around blind eyes.
The harder it is to see the more it
Seems logic to lay in disbelief.