Circles, cycles, seasons,
Days of our lives gone by,
Times of our lives,
Seconds, minutes, hours, days,
Time flown by,
Time spent with nothing,
Habits and rituals and memories,
By and by pulling us away from what we are,
What we could be,
Pushing us to what we will be,
Dragging us forth from the past, from the ashes,
And into today, into the burning fire,
The fire of anger,
The bitter hate and discontent,
The sour feeling of wretched wickedness,
The maddening disgust of rage and painful regret,
This is what we are,
We are nothing,
We are hollow, and we are empty,
We have nothing, so we take from those that have something,
Driven by blind greed, by our own mistakes,
Further into oblivion,
And as we sit, under the weight of our lives,
We can only hope something good will come of it,
Time passes, and we are nowhere,
Less than nowhere,
With less than nothing,
We are forced into a place of desperation,
Forced into the fire,
Further pulled from what was once known,
And into our own unreality,
The hell we built on our own,
The place where we came from,
The place where we were young once,
Where we spent our early lives,
Our beginning years,
The first lives we ever had,
And we call this place
Home.........
*Note: Don't be alarmed by any kind of extra entries that I have written after the official end of the book. I will add anything new I deem to be a good piece of work. My parents were arguing, so I wrote this to reflect people's innate self destructive personalities. I find it both interesting but also very strange.
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Some Things Never Change: A Book Dedicated to Absolutely Nothing At All
RandomA book dedicated to thoughts, poems, stories, questions, answers, recipes. All sorts of fuckery happening up in here. Also, ignore my very ambiguous and sarcastic title. I do have a very cynical and often bitter sense of humor. Anyways, there are st...
