It's Always Wasted Time.

Scarcity in the comfort of blind ambition,
Yet this lacking might be the correct precision
To hack the bad parts into pieces
Filled with enzymes and diseases
Of life and strength; of width and length.
The life that's liven isn't the one that should be lived.
The fight that's fought isn't worth what's being fed.
Clean beginnings without a past
And the kind of thing that's meant to last
Not the lashing that's been cast
Thrown in a civilization that's much too vast.
The old names are the ones that aren't worth to be given.
The tough skin that isn't meant to be born.
Clear indicatives and induced bleeding
Affect the method of what's heeding
And receding parts are not worth feeding.
They are pleading, they are leading.
They are speeding to the wrong needing.
The passion that's lost isn't the passion worth knowing.
The time well spent is the only time growing.
Coming back to selfishness and concluding
It's no wonder why the excluding.
Praise is not wanted.
Claps should not be flaunted.
Words that are eloquently thrown
In patters and shown
For eyes to read and followed.
The constructed hate isn't the hate worth forgetting.
The things that aren't done shouldn't be worth regretting.
Convulsions are amiss into the self abyss
Of selfishness.
It all comes back to it.
It all comes back to it.
It all comes back to yourself
Giving a shit.
It was better then with no self worth.
When all there was, was mother earth.
And the sky and the dirt.
The sky that is made was to be seen for reasons.
The dirt was fixed to last through the fucked up seasons.
Conspiring the dead end of this dread
Full space.
Lacking words and works to be cited and explained.
It's finally time to be remade.
The thoughts that fill are meant to be written
The fantasy land that is so smitthen is the one that's left to be bitten