The wastings
Of the waster
Who wastes the time
Who bends the time
Inside his head
You'll find a maze
You'll find the hell
Built upon words he never told
And swallowed feels
The hundreds of pages
For nothing good to come
For nothing special to show up
Wasting, wasted, he wastes the time, the life, the whole space
Is this a prayer?
Is this a spell?
Many questions
Coming
And the answers might come