A new poem...

[faenor]

Inner conflicts of the mind,
Climax into velvet violence
Like siamese swashbucklers.
The chaotic dance performed upon
The stage of thought,
Plummeting into a vast abyss.

The future holds nothing.

There is no means to this end,
There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
There is only vast open boggs
Upon which the waves of thought
Must tread.

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Meh, thats it, depressed and stuff yeah... whatever meh.