Exempt.Sick
ening, pitiful, shell of man,sp
inning upon his porch again.
In his chair, forever waiting,
forever loving, forever hating.
Rolling across the woo
dwork now,sweat come rolling across his brow
.He raises his arm to cleanse his face,
realizing impurity in another pl
ace.He finds his thoughts con
fusing,he finds his death so
amusing.Thinking about a halt of
thinking,trying to accomplis
h it by drinking.Pondering the h
appiness of life,hatred is st
abbing him like a knife.Beating
his head upon his chair,has no eff
ect upon her stare.Starin
g into his eyes so bright,someone
knows this isnt right.Glarin
g as this stare became,seeri
ng, burning his poor mans brain.Tu
rning, turning, again he spins,f
alling from his chair again
.Falling, falling, fallen man,
getting away from this, no one can.
Running, running, from himse
lf,
no escape, save death itself.
Trying, dying, pitiful attempt,
but from deaths freedom this man is exe
mpt.