Purpose

I may feel like God in the morning.

This is always stemmed

By the belief

That I was put here for a reason.

Though God I am not,

the search for reason remains.

I may feel like Shit in the afternoon

This is always stemmed

By the consumption

Of political spirits and propaganda wine.

Though Shit I am not

No prohibition will hold true.

I may feel like Death in the evening

This is always stemmed

By the notion

That living is so temporary and short.

Though Death I am not

The clock ticks on without me.

I may feel like Love in my dreams

This is always stemmed

By the sensation

That when I wake I may be numb

Though Love I am not

My actions always bare a resemblence.