Not as rigid as triangles and you can fit more things in to squares. I am a square, I have four sides and also an inside and outside. Four sides have never ending pressure, the other two are valves. There's a complex set of mechanisms that work me. I still can't figure them all out. Which means the pressure builds to an insurmountable conclusion and the square is now rubble.
There is nothing in the rubble, no survivors, no dead, not even memories. Just the mortar of a life not worth living. I wonder weather people scour the rubble in search of pieces of me. And then I scold myself for being that optimistic.
I can feel myself spiralling, freefalling beyond the rubble. Down, down through the earth and inner space to nothingness, well nothing other than pain and suffering. Ah home, sweet home.
Maybe I should be a circle, just a valve letting everything just silently pass through me, uninvolvement.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment