Slow Burn Poem by Marxist illuminatti

the wind blows in every which direction/the misconception is the belif that it has direction'
when in reality it frays; waves, changes when it so sees fit;
Just like this; so are we in the high tides of life
Children with fates unfolding before your eyes
Youths going in and out of lives
the inbetweens; self assure that were there located is where they ought to be
then there`s old age; the dreaded of all ages
your body twist and misshapens
death hordes every so close to the horizon
unknowning whats instore
why is the life after death
metaphisacally; mechanically impossible
yet you tell me there`s something inside of me thats called a soul
Then why cant i see it
Still i touch my heart and there i feel it
Beating; Breathing; thinking
Driving; Seeing; Deciding
Everyday i hold witness to my fire burning a little less
Yet i through myself into life w/no regrets
Fate is unavoidable as much as Muerte is unstoppable
one day ill lie w/former sister; brothers; children; fathers and mothers
In the deep soil of my grave with worms picking into my brain
What a feast! ! !