Black Poem by (TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

This zone yields numerous uncertainties; projected firm reality that states nothing clear: filling the imagination with what's actually there.

Memory that's factual contained inside is secrets; blanked recall of deposited elements which exist within: vanish from the mind any given evidence.

This sheet that consumes all things which dare to enter, covering all things cloaked in a state of darkness, taking away any visual knowledge of anything held in its essence.

A person inside its maze will not know if they're going forward or backward, moving about without any vision, having nothing to clearly guide the way.

The region had many that supposed its reality, hypothesized numerous acclaims prevailing its depth, coming short of any factual proof pertaining to its state.

The fact of its existence is there before you, whether you are able to disclose its state: finding more questions than answers, giving this mystery about life.