I

with the mind of an assassin
soul of a monk
i can see crystal clear
with this bag of skunk
left behind for dead
many times again
i find myself lonely
sad from feet to head
the body split in half
like north and south at war
an unforgiving killer
an ungiving whore
content at all times
my minds in a daze
wanting to live simple
from a life of hunger and crave
even when most call it a bore
i sit in thought
as life unravels itself
in its purest form
always roaming
without a home
into the nothingness
i find a home