Freed from the plight of life un led,
crawling towards the light of infamy.
what have we done to the present day’s bread
thrown with the glutton for littany.
to move from the column of lead
without yourself becoming dead?
to write or wrong from time un fed
do you stop the moments instead?
routinely moving from bed to bed
not a difference in how you feel
looking outside but closing when there
for fear of ruining the monotony.