Excess

To which your soul is crying for redemption
Will use whatever tactics necessary to acknowledge acceptation

When you are tipsy, your mind is weary
Therefore, your calling is at a rough diplomacy

Impaired to think rationally,
Which in-between the lines is still your gift
Which in time as a long haul, true destiny you will forfeit

As awareness enhances in some arbitrates,
The real battle is in your own mind by influenced adversaries

Enhanced indeed, to what is appealing
To which is deceiving,
Along the lines of what is rightful encouraging

To which in time, your mind is skeptical
Your heart is anxious,
To which your forbearance is merely an inept suffix

Drunken or whatever means, to please a selfish need
Your plead is as blurry as the fog in which you dream

In logic of mention, your brain is in a weaken
So highly motivated to achieve nothing as your fate’s heathen

Again, influenced by Satin
Another tactic, which you should be aware as stricken

Lost in the fog, aware of nothing but what is next to come forward
In which you are un aware,
Steadily, the more you take in its heed, the more you walk toward

Abandoned, and lost
Your family, and whom which you loved

To which your own written destiny
On to which rebelling in your own failed scrutiny

So a self end
You fall to the end,
But to which your mind was before,
Never to amend

An unhappy end,
To which a person,
Who which not offend
Will happily understand

As you read, you now see
Your soul is crying out, for immortality

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