jeopardized is the hope of better existence, when pilot straps his chute, the leader pedals backward, my life now put on mute, the fears grow stronger onward, the risks I never take, the truth I prove to make myself, I've grown an utter fake

a Morbid thought is that another could respect me, with any regard could I live up to names that they have gave me, No chance that I have earned an ounce of silver they have weighed me, and deepened thoughts of great remorse that they should talk behind me. the paranoia of esteem could be they hold me falsly, that they, the righteous, hold their sceptre casting it above me, and I the jester, The never knowing, For they must know the blackened spots that stay well stained above me.

for he whom wishes short regard the time is given amply, and to the blessed man it lingers not so fully, that he, the blessed may pass on in shortest time thats given, and greatest joys are those that tick the time by ever swiftly

belated are the relizations that I now wish I have rendered, the mistakes that have passed so far have left my heartstrings tendered, the walls now stained and chipped and chopped, the moral moat flows not a drop, and only can I fathom these defeats for longer time. but I, the pawn, learn not from my mistakes, nor is it that I learn, I do as I am told, and by the seething box and scummed opinion of mankind do I manifest my adulterated thoughts of what life is, and act upon them in crude fashion.