I have no assumptions of the future;
I can always have hopes that it will get better;
I can't rely on a vision to be true,
Can't base my actions upon it, now
Assuming it to be fate;
Can't swallow one for sure image down into my soul;
(I'd be creating it
Foretold it with my lies,
With deceit from my soils:
The people I grew up around,
The planters and the rain that fed me before I grew
Into a lying little baby of the world,
A blind soldier of the universe
Caught, trapped,
In grey matter, that is so grey,
Foggy and clouded out with my age,
It's age, not mine.
I'm only here for a while,
Inside this; defiled).
I don't know what's going to happen after this.
I can believe in the now,
decide how to exist within it,
and let go all other commitments to the future.
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