#1
I just came across this that I wrote last year when I was going through a lot of depression ect, please tell me what you think its about. I know that its not that great of quality…

One at a time, I have watched them come
One from the next doesn’t matter.
None of them know of their fate, none will ever find out
But from this container I watch.

One at a time, they fall, o’er the edge
A drop, into the grave.
There was someone, who could have stopp’d it
But they could not bear to leave the

Line to fate designed to each his own
Some choose to sleep while waiting his turn
Others choose to riot, and to the front get thrown
In this world it doesn’t matter, for in fire is the comin’ urn

So many voices in the air, mangled together, in each I hear
A cry for help, a refusal to share a a dread of the inevitable, of death they fear
Each day I have seen it, that to be done
Each day in my mind, I have seen it clear
But dropped back in with hem, and through the rat race I run

Picketing for help, picketing for hope,
But those I ask of,
Are asking of me.
What beggar here has change to give?
What corpse has life to live?
How can I fund the place I have seen?
How can I escape from this hellish dream?

A young man has found, a way to rid pain
In his own body he begins to feel fine
But so artificial will it remain
As he is still pulled towards the line