A being sits in silence and solace writing a poem

Writing a poem to the tune of their own parade

Their own parade dead lest for the beat of a drum

The beat of a drum carrying them through the night

It wonders about the past, present, future

It wonders about its legacy on a page

It wonders about the luxuries which befall it’s kin

It wonders about the fate which befalls the damned

It puts a pen to a page to the tune to their lies

It puts a lyric and a rhyme

It puts a memory to a soul to a fate long past

It puts a thought and a time