My throat has little left to be cut now
But the menacing blade of failure persists
Rusted with the blood of those who could not
True to the rite of passage

Fractures in the brick wall in my path -
So close, yet stands in tact
Fractures in my skull held in my hands -
The battering ram begins to crack

The dismal mass exodus
Left beaten, broken, disintegrated
Seeks to become one with the place of liquid
So we might be molded anew

Fool me once
Fool me twice
Fool me thrice
A fool to be shamed

Hopelessness is not conveyable by words
Forcing one from knowledge to resignation
So fascinating, how loathing sustains itself:

Malignantly feeds
Perpetually breeds
Parasitically bleeds
And more, it needs

Fool me thrice
Fool me twice
Fool me once
Foolish to be ashamed?

Break the self to rebuild the self
Removal of self
Dissection of self
Examination of self

I know the answer exists,
Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is it?
WHERE IS IT?

Analyze
Comprehend
Refine
Eradicate
See...

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