The sadness belongs to all of us. We have to own it. The Madness shouldn't be here, We can't condone it. You want to die? You want to cry? Do you want know what I can see inside your fucking eyes? Stop asking, and stop your fucking pretense, I'll stop rhyming this poem, because I am not in defense. We are living in the End Days. This shit will not be fun. It won't be pleasant. It might not even be overcome. [srry 4 rhyming] But think. Think Deep, and Think Down, And Think Inside, And think about Hell, or Heaven, And where you want to Reside. Now Rest, And when you Rest, Sleep Deep, Or Lest, let your Dreams finally Creep, Until you know, Until you can talk, Until you can say, Until you can run away...