The toxins taste like chilled cherries

Once your purpose is as buried as pharaohs past.

Inside the pyramid lies a myriad of “I could haves” and “I should haves”.


The psuedo-inspiring passion you occasionally display

is actually a masquerade, further showcasing

your intrinsic disarray.


You actually believed escaping was your choice.

Purposelessness succeeded in convincing you;

that poison is as delicious as frozen fruits

  …..I should die for some chilled cherries right now.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



Find your purpose.

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