Your thoughts are a world in its own.
A precious gift,
Ranting’s of A Madman
By Brandon Morris
Copyright 2011 Brandon Morris
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Oh, ye tears that teareth away as fire castrates from brimstone. Sadness that has stricken you, why fight that particular moment? While you ponder the simplicities of hate and greed, must you alter your anguish? I am fond of all aristocrats, and yet sickened of magnates. I dare not blame an eye for an eye, but the way things are entangling, it seems our future is already at its demise, so why not give in? Endless power, superb mortality, is it not what we yearn for?
You are only as good as your descendants, it’s what they all say… right? You fight to conquer your characteristics are faultless, but in your families eyes, you only seem half as reputable as another. ‘Tis not the way a being should behave.
You demand full corruption, and your soul bleeds absolute distress, how can any entity suppress that?
The malicious spirit in your body tells you things in which you shall not believe, but is assured by your companionship between loved ones. Why must one feel frightened of the future, is it not what encourages you to live? You listen for answers… but pry deeper only to find yourself in an epitome of questions. They say no rest for the weary, but is it not the basis in which life is established?