The End

Just a poem you may like.

Shallow pools of liquid brown
niether full or hollow
with withered endless faces
and many men to follow

Swirling in these pools of filth
Exhaustless everhated
well within the caustic grin
The smile has long abated

In between remaining dreams
thoughts are torn asunder
while we hear the shadows fall
as gentle rolling thunder

And dreams that now have faded
as pictures long ignored
Judicious, jousted, jaded
the process draws the cord

Into the blinding mystic
with one last to dispose
fear, folly, failure
I draw this to a close