The Question For Man

Our clothes are what keep us apart from animals and man.

For the flesh that we hold will age with time; that's something we can’t hide behind.

For the tears of bodily blood we share in order to fight for our pride.

What's the point in our partner's past? So we can feel our needs to think it will last us?

So our tides of broken lies will pass us?

We are passionate in showing others our winnings in perishable memories but to hide in darkness to fulfill our flesh.

What point is it if we're all going to die? The great blessings to the wilderness of this world's pride. Desire. Love. Hate. Anguish.

Take it all as a chain of fulfillment to one day sit in a bed old and dead. Wondering where this life had taken me wasting it away with the things that reflect in me?

Biting myself to look at my parents who never shed a tear to my aging of love.

For I was never shown.

Take it as it is and make it yourself to look to others for help. Help in the pleasure needs to be pleaded by the anguishing greed.

On how hunger is heard and no one will want a man who can’t understand himself. For a man to release his last breath does it mean nothing to him?

The wants and his desires for a woman just come to pass? How has she stretched her way to make this man's day think differently to him?

Oh how he betrothed himself and bear hands to the message that he sends to her. Using her. Abusing what he can get and taking her mind.

All just a tool to get what he wants behind? What passion besides the greed of lust. But, who cares if he must! The man shares but doesn’t care? Unheard of.. Or maybe I never heard of it?