The abundance of pores in this shell Manifest as I draw experience. Only time will tell. If I've manufactured a spiritual cell Filling each space with what I see. Experience molds my destiny. Life is the rezoning for the cause. My existence bids to nature's laws. My body a shell of human cells that contain me. Myself a kaleidoscope of thoughts that won't set me free. With each breath that I take I slowly fill the space which will be me! This feeling it causes me to..... While away the years and suck experience. Till my shell is filled and I die. Woven flesh tomb - encases my soul Changes in seven year cycles. Still wandering - does my shell have a cause? The end. A measure of my worth.
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