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History
The history of this pain runs
long
and deep in its track back to the source.
The well-spring
of this failure man
gushes forth from a dark,
damp cave some trillions of years old,
star-spawned and exploded,
and cursed,
surely,
by the matter which was near at the time of incubation.
For I am star-stuffed
and galactic in composition,
yet still not enough
to form a being which deserves life
and running time in this limited dimension.
Small,
remote and under used,
under learned,
and unappreciative of this "gift"
of death
which will come within the next instant
to be sure and over.
Back to the void,
to be pulled to pieces by the happy worms,
and join that ever-expanding league of the grateful dead,
and mold and dusty,
alone...
dark.
© Harley
Harley
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