An evocative poem, by Molly, exclusively for Different Truths.
Pity, only pity sediments… man the meagre mote worth just maggot-meat, one day when he lies interred in soil... still, how he frenzies highly strung on passions of power game chasing shadows... frittering away energies for the futile that eludes... cravings quarrels that hijack the humane... worst, upsetting the applecart of his existence on earth, this multiverse... when can conscience be awake? high time before worms squirm over us, the poor mortals!
Visual by Different Truths