The wolfs are howling
It’s a sad howl
The dead are dead
Souls are wandering, searching for it
Despair, once it was just a word Today its the world
God let us down once again
Nor an enemy nor a friend
Just not there
We had to look for despair
It lead us to it
Now we want it
Life is chaos
Chaos is beauty in the mind of a poet
The poet knows, oh that poet knows the world he owns
From chaos he creates peace
Then rips the page
Only chaos, that’s the state of his mind
He does not want any help, yet he is kind?
What in the world does he need that chaos in his mind?
Despair, despair dear friend
It is where the poet comes to the end.
