Call it semi-sonic.
Just know this, it begins with a bang.
It's a catastrophic thought. Disastrous. Horrifying.
A disarray. Commencing with one ending, ending? There's infinity.
More than a waste of time, more than lost energy, more than bruises, more than tears.
It is locked in the past, terrified of the present, and weary of the future.
It's a realization of pure resentment.
All drawings, all of THEM, lead back to one simple sentence:
What's already dead should be left in the dirt.
