You face the crossroads alone.
Depressed like a dog without a bone.
Cycling backward as if I am glued.
Permanently thinking that I’m fucking screwed.
Consensus is gone.
Where did I come from?
With a head full of fog.
Blood running cold.
What continues to fail is my attempts at resolution.
Paint these walls…
With the blood of my enemies.
Trained to travel across oceans of greed.
Wading in where even death won’t tread.
Soon my soul will have been forgotten…
By the sands of time!
Preservation has no key.
Take this smile from me.
Watch my face twist.
You won’t be missed.
Except this madness to continue to exist.
Paint these walls…
With the blood of my enemies.
Trained to travel across oceans of greed.
Wading in where even death won’t tread.
Soon my soul will have been forgotten…
By the sands of time!
Faker of sentiment.
Lacking in compassion.
Trashed by false intent.
Severing my once sacred identity.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 