The Scorn, pt.I

An empty void, I alone reside under despot terror

There is no escape, this confinement infinite

And to create is but to construct a wall

At a glance, mighty and flawless

With a breath, threatening to collapse

An immense tower of leaves

Dried, brittle, decayed

Exhausted, I perpetually build

This wall provides no shelter

I am exposed all around

It simply grants an iota of purpose

An explanation for this hell

Intoxicated, pieces fall away

Sobered, patches are made

A story without rhyme or reason

The sun never rises

In eternal darkness, I yearn for a new day

There is no warmth, no embrace

Constant hunger, yet sickened when fed

Unable to relate, I assimilate

With none other around, I am nothing

Without a crowd, my thoughts are drowned

Unobserved, I am unknown

There remains no escape from the absolute throne

My body of wires and gears

Has driven me for years

Such a frail thing

I fear the view from atop this wall

One day, I will fall

In seclusion, I can remain grounded

If only I could, but I already am alone

Alone in an empty void...