Does there exist a version with utmost infallibility
A possibility of pain dispersed proportionally
Are the innuendos and references gateways or keepers
Will it be the same for all the unbelievers
Are you a hypnotist
Do you realize
Did I already know, looking into your eyes
Is time wasted when thrown away on work
Or is it the last time that dictates the diction
Will suppression through segregation ever cease
Smoke and mirrors bypassed by the masses with ease
Will I regret not nearly going far enough
Is it destined
Am I up to snuff
Does the grapevine suffocate me to free thee
Will it leave me be
Is there innate selfishness in taking one’s own life
Does that selfishness exist when the self is not ripe
Will anyone stop my tedious prose
The melancholy guarded by the crows
Could be me, but am I ready to part with the rose
That’s not quite 27, but my chest feels awful tight. So thank you for reading. Good night, good night, good night!