Failure Is Divine Satire
by Coma Eternal· from I Am the End
Nothing changes and it never will. Sun up sun down everyday stay the same. Repetition, metaphorical erosion of the spirit. Rusting promises like skin liable to chap. Fate is the nightlight that burns our eyes out as we walk tight ropes and dance in circles to the tune of our backs breaking under weight of living up to potential. Choking on the smell of it all but hiding all signs of discomfort. Choke on the smell. On and on, around and around. Never missing a beat. Soldiering forward, away from what you truly aspire to be, or to do, or to see, for fear of pushing. Sinking or sailing, flying or falling, cutting the waves. Breaching the hull. Soaring with out effort. Going down in flames. No ports, no parachutes. Failure is divine satire so maybe we'll be laughing at the ones who died in neutral. So maybe we'll be laughing at the ones who died in park. Who is to say? Every time you sell yourself short an angel gets its wings. So maybe I'll be a monumental joke. Moving on, staying in place, with the things we want growing old in the back seat.