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Guitar's Cry

Disciple of Pan
Sometimes I wonder how far I've come
And how far I have yet to go.
Maybe it's futile
To dream when I am already dead.

Someday I'll slip into nothing
And my physical self will melt away
To other forms.

What's left
If Nothing is inevitable
Then this life is everything.
I drift.

I find myself
Razored to the bone
Oozing marrow to suck
From the core of my life.