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So
So beyond the contempt of termites.
We fled to easier paths.
Blinded by the world's regret.
A tragedy walking backwards.
So easy were the juvenile years
That we barely see antiquity.
But at a glance so sudden
The memories remain starved.
So benign to the fact of future
That out all consuming stench
Fills the room with exhales
Of turmoil so over dramatic.
So lost we are in the darkness
That the color wheel of life
Fades to the ever so bleakness
Of our perpetual whining.
So ungrown are our souls
That out maturity has been wrought
By the device that is continuity.
Tying all things to the same undeserved destiny.
