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I move to only see my past
Searing the present into a distant memory
And enriching my thoughts upon the future

Eclipsed by these memories
My life equates to shades of grey
Quaking in the shadowy figures of a darken soul
Mirrored by hues of silvery blackness
Reflecting the hidden remorse for my tomorrow

Yet, I can hear the question
Somewhere in the distance
Somewhere in the clouds
Chanting to me

How do you know the future without the past?
How do you know the future without the past?

Because the future is the past
And the present is a subdued future
Shackled by human tendencies
And captured by the engrained ideation of hope

However, the gloom of this question surrounds me
Engulfing my past, present, and future
And placing me in a bed of lies
To forever lay in this filth
That I bestowed upon myself.