Perspective.

Have you ever shaken out the last dregs, of an almost empty bottle?
You’re secretly relived that awful liquor is over, but you wish it was a tank without a bottom.

We invented booze, slavery and nicotine,
Then blamed it all on men,
We taught a cow to fly,
Then complained when it shat on men.

We, you me and that neighbor we never spoke to,
The children of less than immaculate conceptions
With our theories, realities, laws and degrees,
We are all court jesters.
You, and I and that old man’s wife
Performing endlessly,
For others to watch and laugh and learn,
From our mistakes and broken dreams.

We are the last of the heroes, who make the pragmatic feel purposeful,
The wonderboys with their lost souls, and the incapability to earn a meal whole.

So you think you’re worth your salt, just cas you’re a millionaire? Tell me will your flesh not rot, when you’re six feet under there?

Its old, its all said, circles round and round, still we say, for we love our own voices,
Narcissus was right all along.

You’re not wrong, neither was that Muslim you hated,
Trump is correct too I think, even though his theories are jaded.
We are all playing bad hands at poker,
And we all will eventually lose
Some will fall on hard rock beds,
While some remain buoyant, like on the moon.

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