I'd hate to write my eulogy,
Or my will.
But I'd like to know I'm there.
I'd hate to give you epitaths of
something I never was.
I'd hate to sing songs of just words
and no tune.
If I write of pain how will that day be remembered.
If I write of imphamy, how fleeting it will be.
But I'll die without knowing, without speaking, and in vain.
Without a purpose, too much passion, and, like I said. In pain.
I hope for love.
I wish for faith.
I die for nothing.
I swear, I lived for something.
Godfull, and Godless.
The devil and God....
Piece by piece giving, getting, and living.
But never knowing.
Confidence is facial.
Success is a lie.
Vanity is a roadblock.
And diety is a necessity.
But my heart is broken,
my stomach is weak,
and my faith is on E.
Save me or love me,
Or just let me die.
