The bible suggests an end,
For this I truly hope.
Though the words are truly fairytales now,
The embracing darkness wants me to hope.
So many words that are still unsaid,
Like imagination ripped from an author.
Were we cows heading to the slaughter,
Or cows heading to greener pastures?
Though the urge to believe is beating like a young heart,
The thought of you existing is beating like a dead one.
My escape from a world of conformity,
My escape from a world of ignorance,
Resulting in the construction of my destruction.
Am I left to live a world without hope?
Or has hope been vacant all along?
or just abandoned.