people never seem to care
about the way the world is made
ego trips and worldly pleasures
that’s everything in it
He's into poetry again. He hides his smile once more, gazes at the sable parts of the room and wears his black shirt again.... He's in a state of dreary, plunged into desolation. He stares at the picture of memory and puts his thoughts running again.... He is looking for something. He wonders and lays on his bed, works hard to deceive his sentiments but the tick tocks keep increasing....