By Omard

Here we are, where we will always be
never to sleep, where time marches on implacable,
and the past, present and the future form an endless blur,
Where sleep eternally Fights, and Hope fails hourly
Where people rule, and each is a God lonely in its own might,
Where we encounter others of our ilk, and cast their nature in
shadows of our own
Where Violence and Purity run hand in hand,
and Shallow Beauty attends, their presence seemless in its numbers
Where Days and Nights meld without distinction, distraction,
or sweet boundary
and Dreams entice and invite, and flee as quickly as they've come
It's enough to make one go Mad or at the very least doubt ones Sanity
People should be allowed a rest; a smaller lighter
more-welcome version of Death.