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Rebirth of a Madman Poem
Rebirth of a Madman
Reality is not hard to see,
It's a paradox of mortality,
Forever lost within time and thought,
You find that life was all for naught.
Eternally in pursuit of death,
Your willingness to live is growing less,
So soon the grim reaper will arrive,
To take your soul before you die.
At the sounding of the sacred horn,
The cycle of life is to be reborn,
With the sowing of a single seed,
To satisfy a carnal need.
A child conceived in his mother's womb,
Ignorant of the impending doom,
He does not know of his past mistakes,
Only of all the lies that he makes.
The darkness upon which the child feeds,
Is the evil spawned from forgotten deeds,
A hundred thousand years ago,
Was born the man he will never know.
© 2016 Midnight Muse