Into a Nebulous Existence

Senses numb and awareness is all my consciousness

Beyond my heart’s rapid throb, the world slows

And I, the weak

I… am subject to the will of another.


The faces around me are but blurs of the unfamiliar

Yet all too familiar, we all strive to the same end

And we, the helpless

We… are subject to the will of another.


The countdown is nigh and autonomy nearer still

For what is one to do, truly, when monotony fades to oblivion

And it, the pointless

It… is subject to the will of none but its own parasite


Pressed into our seats, we ascend

We, the weak, the helpless, and the pointless, diverge

And, like the pages of books on shelves

Know nothing of one another, and mayhaps we’ll stay that way


But ah, the joy of flight…


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tales told different

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Jo Writes Fantasy

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