0177

something to some for somewhat a short time,
just an ego pulsing thing with a stupid rhyme,
a shoulder to lean and push over into their mud,
cut with the nails and stabbed to spill blood,
screaming from the voice of words never said,
dry and useless at the emotionless dead,
bring them up from their pain in the below,
now you can go on your own path and not follow,
i just pass by in the wind and gust,
but i prefer if you keep in contact to trust.