In
Abstract War
Suicide
of the soul is the destruction
It is the
first, for it’s you
Then
follows all, but that’s only the visible
The
pillars of Identity and self-esteem, is the vital
Does it
matter where or how one reaches?
Self-righteous,
ignorant and smug, are the preachers
Yet they
mean no harm, they’re merely futile
It is
impossible for the stable to understand the abyss
So the
erosion toward destruction is meantime arrested
And
normality resides within, all else forgotten
This is
the tide of the elixir, woe betide
For it’s
only until, but don’t you see, its life without threat
And so a
smiling and happy demeanor
Yet,
unemotionally, the melancholy lurks
The
candle burns at both ends
Grant me
the strength, but too gratitude for what the elixir attends
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