Untitled Work in Progress
You will see that my rhyme scheme is inconsistent, and I am not sure if I actualize any real metaphor here. Looking for strong, constructive feedback and criticism.
I was born the day before a destiny with death
I search for sense, seemingly still in its dilution
Century of extant being may we all be lent;
Lord Creator, my revelation occur on the day of diminution.
Faithless I wonder, questioning all
Snowflakes dropping at the Rockaway Mall.
Fruitless face fuzz shaved + delivered,
Tonight! (all nights?) to tickle my liver.
Endless testimonial I endure
"Don't waste but a minute, you'll soon be 34."
Vigor was triggered; I sit in her seat.
Hair buzzed too now, like Samson's retreat.
Still seeing left field vision. I make a decision
Death is but a whisper, not a wimp
Peacefully we go, at our own discretion.
Fear not. One blimp. A drip. Sip, bp, bp b --