I exist because I am;
A dreaded feeling
In not knowing what I will.
A lackluster being,
Or the shell of a man?
Over a loaf of bread with ham.
I look upon thee and I see
An illusion culled in humanity.
Tendrils wrap the cloth
As the base of all comes to rot
A prison cell in our own minds
Dark, wet, un-sustaining chimes.
I look forward to the day
I find purpose out of dismay
For I am but a broken mosaic
In a world run by white sheep.
