Sheeps transcend to wolves.

Same morals, new image.

Illusions of a new step.

The pendulum itches for rest.

The clanking force of existence.

Rotation of inertia,

dangling,

and hitting the walls of reality.

Clank, Clank,

as the walls crack,

from the wear of your existence.

Soon the cracking,

the pressure,

and the tenitous sound of ringing,

all dissipate,

and fade into numbness,

of the ears that cared to hear them.

Doubt is withdrawal,

from the addiction of ringing.

The once brick walls,

bordering the pendulum,

shatter into a powder.

They looked impervious,

but everything ends.

More pendulums,

grow from debris,

of these ashes.

Rust,

like leaves change colour,

is the colour of fading away.

Pendulums,

that fooled us into thinking,

that we could navigate.

The pendulum was built,

itching to shatter it's walls,

and learn why it appeared,

in the first place.

Your truth is my lie.

Your faith is my partisan.

Your belief is my wall.

Blasphemy to the source.

No creature,

of the millions,

could clank their pendulum,

strongly enough,

to shatter the roots anchoring all.

We descend upon ashes,

of our fellow creatures.

I watched my creator,

shatter and burn,

in a blasphemist cathedral.

Help heal my wound,

only when contagious lepers astray.

The pendulum keeps swinging swiftly.

Some perceivers,

stand more propinquint than others.

Black and white,

left and right,

It's all the same cycle.

We all turn to page 96,

and leave DNA on every page.

The vain tirade,

can't reach my trigger.

Only the heart of the pendulum,

can strike my impact.

We shatter,

We collide,

the warmth of another object.

The impact of more substance,

to fill the insatiable holes,

of every architechture.

They claim innovation,

but all I see is,

a new machine,

to perform the same task,

a different way.