Leave it out,
Let it go,
Let it rain,
Let it snow,
Let you hear me,
Let you know,
That I'm weary,
Takes its tolls,
This life does,
Yes it does,
Yet I trust,
In my betterment,
In a better rent,
That this letter sent,
Reaches far!
Like a reverent.
And if I repent? Nah! If I renovate my dwelling state:
Like a judge: make me a compelling case! Quell my rage! Shell my age! Given to me by many days just spent in waste. Sitting: Knitting? Nah! I wish I had the taste! I need a lift: watch me elevate.
I'm the elevator,
Terminator of all things past.
I'm the grand escaper,
Burning all walls in my path.
I'm the end narrator,
Telling you how all unfolds.
I'm the dead-end savior,
The one who burns a gory hole right through the wall of old! You'll be implored to call it glory hole. And through it I'll unload; emerge to newer lawns and carry on my call of mauling prose. Go through the hall of oaths.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
Other sights?
Other lives?
Other rights?
Other tries?
Other plights?
Other fights?
I don't think this war will ever stop, but I won't ever stop whether the war stops or never! Rot on you cadevers of this leveled lot. I'll make my own. I'll dig my tomb on a relished spot, beneath the stars and so-far-it's-like-forever dots. And there I'll lie when I revel not, no longer, stronger in spirit but body dead and docked, then call me all but a warmonger.
The king.
So how much longer till I conquer? I'd better jot... down some plans to change the world, win; sweep over this surf like a whirl, wind, and never stop, like a cold that calls for ever snot. Like a ghost ship foes see and toes slip... I'll make a better plot.