June 27, 2012

My doom is close, had to make it random
The mundane chose me, not the other medium
Barking down the wrong flower,
My presence known, the taste sour

Breaking cycles, circling brakes
Pushing titles, too many takes
Right-mindedly, how could we
Determine our future by our history

None so demanding or overpowering as the sun in a pan
Choked too death by a dead star, the universe's grip is not too far
Shy and meek, I realize my full potential
Is as small as a dark stain, on a black Skittle

You might have shown me the world revolves
To make me feel that in fact I'm not so small
But the truth known to all mankind
Is the same I find, when I climb

We move as ants, more judgmental
Wrecking our wisdom as if so simple
What is bigger than galaxies
Yet smaller than apple seeds

Is a heart left empty