For life wouldn’t be a life anymore,
Without an owner, to lend all your beliefs to,
And with a blasphemous purpose of life,
I propose the downfall of all my creation
A glimpse of the orator’s script,
And I wouldn’t have to die for a heaven anymore
Am I too selfish?
Or too cruel to nature’s beliefs?
For I don’t want to breathe anymore,
And I didn’t know it would be a loss,
The loss of a poem for that matter,
A trigger, a barrel, and the bullet of glass,
From the beloved , to the beloved,
Find me a singer, and let her smile,
So I could cry in remorse again,
Find me a poet and all his poetry,
So I could be able to die again.