Torn between poles torn between holes
Torn between myself and the scroll
Hallowed being suffocating
Shallow being just negating
Bursting trapped inside this cage
Thirsting for the ceaseless rage
Trite and pleasant are the senses
Might a peasant take defenses
Plunge into another recess
Lunge at what one does profess
I can be that one of vision
Cast aside an indecision
Forethought, planning and design
Tools with which I can define
Time will tell which tasks remain
If I fail I stay the same
But should I thrive and do excel
That is my heaven’s release from hell
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