Perverts


We missed the bliss of innocence
The kiss of honest ignorance
That youthful sigh of newfound sense
Vanished with the winds of age
Where we used to simply turn life's page
Engaged with only what we read
Instead we're flipping through obsessed
Always trying to scheme and guess
The plots that lie ahead
And while we may not know the end, the twists
The middle mess and stress unread
The gist suggests we've been misled
The stories of our collective quest
Will persist long after we've fled
So to spend the rest of life depressed
Infested with the lust of death inside our head
Molests the gift of life itself
And leaves it mostly dead

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