common conception

After all this time

believing wasn’t enough

contrary to common conception.

Dead was the day of recompense, as

everything was meant to end.

Far gone from the heavens’ lens,

going back to times repented.

Harrowing tales flood the mind.

In time we will seek our kind.

Just as I would start to look at

how our lives changed like a book,

let alone the time it took for

magic to have shaken up the countless

numbers of men that partook in

our endless fishing hooks.

People mistook us for the

quiet souls, little to say, but we were

raging towards brighter days,

sunny different ways.

Transactions of what we’ve bought,

under what it is we thought,

vile thinking’s all we’ve got

when neurons start to rot.

X-rays dictate what we see,

yellow lights and purple trees,

zealous as we plead.