Drowning out the voices inside - A Poetic Practice

What is a cynic?

Am i one?

Will you be able to tell if someone is one?

Depends i suppose on whether you're able to recognize yourself when you state back at the mirror.

The fear of time passing you by, by the way side s you ponder on your life's mysteries. The void does not bias on who or what it consumes.

Let's burn something for all the goodness it brings like floating from eagle spread wing is that even a thing truth damned be it sing.

Blazing saddles into sunset Boulevard oh ye old town bard holding onto that golden card with drawstring purse holding onto a curse.

Is it that time where even a simple rhyme sound you round a spinning dime eating away all your precious time like a failed mime.

Each sip take away a piece of you and spits it out like rotten meat all covered in spice none ever can say you're going to be wise these white lies.

Gaze into some churning waves life roles into a fire burning as your rolling and turning in your pursuit of a good piece of mind.

Left feeling abandoned in the way side built over plans held tight into that endless night at distant a light just out of sight.

Is this the time again asked over a pointless line written over and over as thought everything is just fine like old aged wine.

Better consumed with no company all the while there's no way to tell if you've even reached a mile seven fifty that's the style.

Drop in say hello.

My post favourite, by me.

Poem.

Life.

First.

Activate your limitless you.