My Own Ideals

What's left but a box...

I've been abandon by life..

The nature of love has surrendered , "exhausted and worn."..As myself longs to achieve beyond its horrors.

Without pain ,

 suffering 

Without conditions

Nor judgment.

I can ,must and will succumb to my own ideal demise...

I will yield and extinguish 

regardless of my own disguise .

I had once a path it ended .

However it was not suppost to end.

It's writhed

It curved it undulated

It slithered far ahead of me.

It twisted and turned.

One would never know had it was a wagging tale 

Or a fervent goodbye wave.

This was not what I imagined .

Hence many peers my parents taught me to be brave.

For I have been hunted. down by death ..

Insanity ,murder madness.

Most of my years not by my

woes. nor sadness .

Not by my lack of perception .

Nor but a fools deception .

I was nothing but young

No sails But full of lung .

Much my breath could I forfeit .

But not as the air bellowing 

out. from a trumpet..

Youthful bored An apathetic. traitor .

Because everyone else 

had always seemed greater.

Forced to seem humbly 

gathered to and fro .

Faces they often smiled as well ..

Hiding their show..

Everyone teetered along the sidewalks taken in stride .

Some stepped outside the borderlines many had died.

What's left but a box ?

Something I thought I knew then.

But what could I have known only a few years past ten .

Long have I stood rightfully 

my own.

The years but many have taken me. Any youth is almost gone.

I haven't been free..

None to themselves 

Nor their own

This is one of the reasons 

Why I cannot wait to be gone.."Where

"I Will Be Free Atlast!"

Never again will I be stalked by the futures glass.

Never again will I be chewed and swallowed by the past.

"What's left but a box?"

My own ideals her at last !