Poems that will never turn into songs
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- Parts 8
This is how we become what we already are. Lost souls looking for home. Never finding it here. Never knowing what's there. Just living with the fact that we live and others die. And a tombstone will make us immortal. When there are no tears left to cry. We write. We think we have forever to tell our stories of becoming. But when all turns to dust and you have no desire to move. That is when it all begins only to end again.
Ecogoth ideas of how people think they are stuck feeling stuck without ever being stuck. Because life goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Till one day, it doesn't. The end.
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