Standing on Death's corner. I am sick of this hypocracy. This is my farewell. Not much time left. I wonder which of these passing cars I will stride in front of, who will the fortunate driver be, who will partake in such an intamacy with me? With a personal and gental kindness they will propel my soul into the next realm. I am tired of these people who point there fingers instead of using there time to resolve it out. I am also repelled by your pollution, I am outraged by your lies, but I will remain mute to all this, and just go on my course.

It is written. You can all take this world of yours, and do what you will. I am no longer apart of your charade.

{{{ previous poem {{{ }}} next poem }}}