What a trip

shattered remnants of the face morphed
Shards soaring through the vast empty void known as life
Shaken as an infants rattle
Tossed and turned, made to appreciate
The beautiful satisfaction
Of the empty ego
Living for survival and adaptation
to live on in spite of every obsticle
We live to fall into the realm of the pipers rythm
Addiction to sweet sernading temptation
the provoker of existance
dance little doll don't doddle
life in red, is seeing the hidden moments.