Social Media Pt. 2

Time is running out. Out in the sense that there is a drought Doubt that kills softly like lavished lies Dies the identity you once had and the entity that made eternity, yours. But you still have clocks ticking The phone lines are still ringing and you still have the meter, running to refill. Because the conclusion isn't set in stone. It's written in history's will. The lucrative loss of lingering sorrow supplied the anointed with desire and hope for a future of blessings and dressed it in black and white to avoid the colors that can dry and die because you forgot to use your crayola pens and then while the dragon's den is active, you are radioactively proactive by the poison of society that never ceased. It is simple to make rhymes match time and let every dime become a quarter so that the order of the disorder wasn't in succession and exponentially amplifying. Maybe that quarter becomes a dollar as you holler to the scholars on death row for testifying the truth. Life won't make cents because you never made change. But if you don't have identity,  then your desire to change nonexistence is as useless and resistance to the resistance is futile. We resist from the world, persist to the mist and insist that change is needed. Gasoline pedals won't solve your drive without a GPS from the master. And yet you worried about Facebook status like they blue dyed blueprints martyred with blood on a laptop screen. What are you doing? Facebook don't get me started. Log Off. Shut Down. Close Computer. Kneel and Close Eyes. I would rather pray then televise dismay and pain like it would link gain and disdainfully aim to tame society's taste for sorrow. I'm living for tomorrow. Today is just out of control