And getting used to this.
These are all the things you are;
All the things you gave me.
I'm rid of you.
straight the grim depressing point. i cant understand why people like to be sheep either. heres my own the topic it is sonnet i think.
survival in the shadow of an idol
Wondering aimlessly amongst the trees
Chasing after a menacing idol
This is believed to be survival
Reinforced by the barbaric breeze
Causing all soul to freeze
Making us in a sense suicidal
Yet still in a illusion this is delightful
Because it puts your mind at ease
All this robbing you from your identity
Breaking every bone that lies in your spine
Digging your own grave in the cemetery
I stand here and watch your reality unwind