The End Near the Known

Build yourself up so high you can feel the clouds pass you by. That the world and its problems are like ants busy below you. Their Cry's and joys only as whispers upon your ears.

At last you have found a place where no emotion can reach, no longer can they play your heartstrings like a guitar and make you who they need you to be.

To sit and enjoy your company with no more static following you around. To see yourself as false and not the real you, just residue left by those before that made your memories and will, yet what about the truth of what you make.

To follow the path which you made yourself and not the old or new, to fall and stand with your own feet. To leave behind the will of the masses and never be one thing to enjoy the whims which your mind creates, for in the end you will fall and not stand again and people shall watch as the mud covers your end and morn the person they thought they new, for in the end each will have a different view and no longer can you correct them.

The noise long gone emotions still you lie and wait for something new.

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