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content not to contend
Can you be content
not knowing of what it is that you fend
Not knowing weather it's good or evil,
Or the value of the time that you tend
Not even
knowing what's coming from around the bend
So you try and blend,
Reality to what's pretend
A perception of insanity is what starts to trend
those who love you become agent Bond to befriend
Your Ethics held at the border of "it depends"
In what way will you descend?
Building a cocoon to finally evolve into what you intend.
Ish Taking in all manner of shit, till it split wit in end