Expendable HonorThe war rages onWe must allReceive our share of carnage.There is moreThan enough to go aroundNo one must miss outGive their entire share.Meat, bloody meatNever, no neverMet in defeat.We are always victoriousFleeing from one battleTo the nextMuttering babbles of false honorTo attempt the gain of respectFrom the opposite forces.Tip-toe in the crimson puddlesInching your wayThrough shadows path.The hunger leadsYou on to their lairThe fumes of decayTrailing around youTo bury the true scent.The hunters look outFor more preyLingering about the path.While the feastStill plays onCelebrating the carnivorous victory.
Self ClassificationDig it deepInto my beingThe blade must runFurther in depth,For even the soulTo feel the painRunning all the way throughOne side to the other.Until feeling ceases altogetherForever reminding meOf all the mistakes made previous.To do the world a favorEither locating a useful nicheOr fading in the background.Uselessness keeps tagging meMaking me feel utterly emptyUnworthy of anyone's companyUnless there is a purpose to fill.Even though the truthOf the matterIs that I haveAlready done everything I canFor the time being.
Self ControlBrooding at his own lossesThe dark childPleads for his MotherWho is currently...Enjoying her calm slumber for centuriesAs they waltz byIn the blink of a mortal eye.Lead and overwhelmed by his physical urgesThe child foolishly summonsHis beloved undead mother.Awoken to pure selfishnessThe Madame aims her outrageAt her own childTeaching him to have and useHis self controlRather than pissing it away.
Purpose or Wasted ChanceThe immortal circus runs continuouslyBring forth more imbecilesThey want nothing moreThan the never ending funAbsent of all responsibility and intellect.The jesters question the logicOf purpose, life and intuitionWhenever it is all wastedOn pleasures searched forBy any means necessary.The sane wear a maskBut are they truly so?Tis easy to blame the uniqueAs they care notFor the specific ways of society.Afraid of the mundane,Welcome to real life,As it never was a game.Your in for a wild ride,Be prepared for what is to comeYou are in control now.Will insanity scare you in a corner,Of merely not understanding itAnd fearing anythingWhich doesn't look normal?Or will you embrace the opportunityOf another discoveryThough it be disguised as something else?This is now your call,Do with it what you will.
Internal ChaosNo diversion providedTo get lost inThe maniacal mindLaughs its wicked echoesBouncing of the mind’s walls.Internal chaos brews upBoiling an incoherent patternFor those to seekAnd never comprehend.
PurposeMistakes add upUntil self worthProves itself pointlessIn your own eyesSwallowed up byThe internal abyssThe hatred runs throughCrawling out wasOnly a wasted effort in the first place.The black vaporSuffocating the fresh air around itPulling you inBy its reversed gravitation.Knowing that a purpose existsIs so hard to believeWhenever the battle of the selfCommences into a repeating pattern.Though the feedbackOf others isFar more believable than anything else.
Moments of NostalgiaOne look atThe full moonThen the nostalgic memoriesCome flooding throughAs they did beforeThere is no timeTo dwell any longerOn past regretsOr what should have beenAfter all goingWith the flowWithout formal plansBrings out the factThat pondering over suchIs a pure waste
Broken MetaphorNo need to keep goingThe dead spot hasAlready been reachedA decision keepsRiding up to the sub consciousnessI may have bitOff more than chewedOr could indeed replaceMaybe this whole thingWas all a deceptionUntil the reality shookThe pretty metaphor into nothingThe cracks have surfaced upDepicting the realHidden picture underneath
Death the DealerBeyond the stone wall lies the voice of cold, maniacal, death awaiting eagerly for those to give up the life already wasted and left behind.Roll the dice, gamble with what little you have, enough do it already...not holding up to the wagers brought before them.The ace of spades beckons for life force to bring back to its master dealing it out upon the table called the world. Look to the sky it is raining cards and many possibilities fall right before your feet.Which path is plausible and to your liking? Think on this before adding up more to the ultimate wager.The blackjack dealer holding the scythe is waiting. Hold him up no longer for time is precious as well as running out. Your breath is just as valuable and could expire at any given second.Now then...what does your life truly mean to you nothing or everything?!?