What does Heaven look like, I wonder,
A soft voice or the lord talks like a thunder,
Was it a blessing or was I a curse to this world,
Could someone had lived it better or was I the one to suffer,
Was it love or an illusion,
Or was it my usual delusion,
Did I hear my heart break,
Or was it another ellusion I decided to take,
Is it the overture to my decadence,
The euphony of my last belligerence,
Will I lose or ravish,
Or keep fighting till I perish,
Who would answer my queries,
Mystical gnomes, magical elves, or pretty fairies,
How will I die,
Will my demise make the stones cry,
Why does silence haunt me,
Why do I fear darkness,
Why can't I Flee,
From this philandering numbness,
I ask this in my wake and slumber,
Why am I still alive I wonder.
Poetic Injustice --- The myriad me, in myriad ways,
and myriad words, in myriad lays.
To stay, to sway, to the new glory,
to my past allay....
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