This same black routine
It will change in time
Moving from one step
To the next
To the white
Like a lustul disease
It attracts you
Tells you to keep
Going forward
Your feet grow tired
The process takes patience
But how do you know
You'll make it to the end
If your black heart
Is weaker than
The white walls
That barricade your
Flimsy mind
This contradiction
Where the black
Meets white
So fuzzy at the edges
You can't tell the difference
You'll remember the good
But the bad will be swallowed
By the black-
A cliched metaphor
For the wretchedness
Of Life
Yet this is death
And it spills over the edges
With a solid
Fill of
Nothing.
