State Of Beliefs Poem by Timothy Long

Compared to this, nothing else matters, a human is made up of this, something simple to you and me, truly causing many differences and wars, humans would be simple creatures without this, a state in fixture, a state of blank, let the weeds grow, a belief...like an idea can survive, but my craft has gone downhill, an idea is the ability of continuing talent, look at me, losing draw, lost passion like a lost idea disappeared cause no one cared to keep it around, the dull heart is not broken, just alive with no analogy left to fill its depth, what a inconvenience, can it be called an issue anymore? The answer was found long ago, just a love and friend will do, it could be fun? State of beliefs are always different, but perspective sure does kill, don't go there, but don't go to far, fire retained in of belonging the energy in my skin, make my soul have a different energy leaving me renewed.