The past is never out of scope in the day-to-day decisions--
The ideas of past's glories
Intoxicate our well-beings,
And the strong make weapons of
words
To nurture their inner hawk
better;
Time spent on ideas of
considerable importance
escape from the cycle
and again do we forget
Of past cycle's ends that would
go unhinge?
The sane insult while the
insane take us to the fringe,
And we call the past the villain,
While it is misconstrued as sacrilegious rewritings
and while we beg for work,
we are denied the pointless high cars
that take us to an e’er higher status
off their high mountainous fluff to infinite depths.
In their day-to-day dealings, they thank themselves
For their job-well-dones,
While they pat themselves on their perfect backs,
Scratchless as though imperfect,
And we cannot look at themselves critically,
For the villains sing of our
overlooked status’,
And my back is yet unrevealed,
So the master humbled had learned from our mistakes,
And he looked upon myself as a summoned
ghost
A virus of uncanny resemblance to his deprecated past-times;
We relived the insane inconvenience of infinite deaths
And we laughed at our demons asking for another repeat,
So then they saw the future
rain upon themselves again.
The end of this epoch forgotten, I distanced myself like they wanted—
The perfect universe they wanted—a desire burned upon our heads.
Yet they prepared us for our journey through time.
