Void of regular emotion
Young become zombies to life
Isolation a given confinement
Self-torcher for insight.
No one knows the adversary
Or understands…
It’s different now
Because reality is what we pretend.
Ghosts walk the halls, movies and games
Solving the next mystery
And deciding who to blame. . .
Then causing new misery
In order to wake up or wise
Without maturity of consequence
Or the ability to reverse time.
So absent of future
And certainty of death-
Merely the sake of forgiveness
Only after true regret.
