Wars never end, and battles are never lost
We rage towards a dying light, our final cause
Listlessly awaiting, a final toll of the bell
Forming a line, into our own hell
Days seem endless, and nights, do go on
Singing our anthems to the same ole song
Praying or preying on a day to soon come
All the more reason, we feel like total scum
“No, no, you do have your worth,
A title given to you upon your second birth
Arise my son, to become anew,”
Look at me now, am I the fool?
In the end, did it all matter
Should I listen, to the voices mindless chatter
Raging still towards a dying light
Waltzing away from any sign of fright
We are now, who we where then
Coming around, to start again
At the beginning, we twiddle our thumbs
Bravely awaiting, what is to come
Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts 