There’s a scope, to my existence,

I believe, with all my heart,

There’s a limit,

This may be, something obvious,

But I grew up, with a lot of delusions,

Hints, reflections of the truth,

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

So many demons, and of course,

There’s perspective, all the changes,

Life, love, and life,

The ground, the cold, cold truth,

Always, echoing,

You really can’t, look directly at it,

You walk along the path,

No matter where you’re at,

Wherever the cookie crumbled,

You pick up what’s around you,

Pieces of yourself,

Is it a stream, or a whole river,

There’s so much, the flower blooms,

It bears fruit, I’m telling you,

There’s a limit, a gravestone,

Death, my only hope,

Yet I still live,

Freedom and peace,

The end of my rope,

Will it leave something behind,

A corpse, and ghosts…