Epilogue /// in quiet thoughts

Let me be your whipping boy.And elevate your pain.

Too few people can accurately grasp how meaningless they are.

Opting either for the Grandeur or the obsolete, laying their lives at the feet

Of mass uninterest and disillusion.

I am but a simple child

Prepared to take your beating

Place your pain and persecution on my tender flesh

Give me a reason to keep on going


 I keep cutting my finger in the exact same place

As if in a futile attempt to bring awareness into my finger tips

Each time the searing pain commands my focus to this forgotten bit of flesh

It slides back just as easily to the darkness behind my unarticulated thoughts

Lost deep beyond comprehension I bleed 

Think of the power I would command

If I could only remember where my finger begins and ends