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Vain Gratuities
Before this starts, I just want to say that I haven't posted in a long while, and that most probably never knew I left. I have, however, been periodically reading various posts, and I must say that UFO, however unknowingly, has encouraged me to continue writing. I'm not sure why, but he has sparked something within me, or, maybe more, awoken that which was asleep, so here I am. I believe this was the last piece I had written.
Vain Gratuities
Becoming numbed from the pain, and somewhat learned to the sadness,
I have succumbed to the game, knowing mother earth is a sadist.
Half of this life is a painful rut; constantly we tread in it.
We say we're thankful, but..constantly we're dreading it.
And letting it occur daily, without conversing about it,
Is getting my nerves shaky, as if I'm nursing the habit.
The worst things always happen; it will be better next, potentially.
But you're in a hazed entrapment; difficulties abound exponentially.
Flinch and you'll see that you’ve missed, that your one hope and shot has passed.
My life is the ink in this pen, but it's now broke and blotting black.
Trodding back, I remember once hearing that patience is a virtue.
And that truth is the key, but I know that being blatant can hurt you.
Time heals all inert wounds; unfortunately this is a mockish joke.
I've searched every inner room, only to find my clock is broke.
The world is seemingly fateful, and so it's plain for you to see,
That when you tell the world you're thankful, it's a vain gratuity.
Thank you Phoenix.
__________________
_-_
/('.')\
'\(.)(.)/'
V
_/\_ And now, Starts the craft, Of the Father.
I was older whenever I was younger.
lllThe Man Flammondelll llThe Man Flammondell lllThe Man Flammondelll
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