I am not a prophet

I am not a god

I don’t preach to the congregation

Or make men chop logs

I do not expect people to listen when I talk

The words that I spew are not law

I come here today

To share the burdens that I continuously despair

For me there are no faint hearted

Just the ones that’s gal has been departed

Long departed into the shelter of lost dreams

Into the insanity

Into the abyss

Prolonged by misanthropy

Hindered by empathy

Going into a cycle of militia mentality

Versus the echo of even in itself carries on enigmatically

So to what do I grasp

As this alleged certainty crumbles

And the improbability of me lasts