Science of Poop

An Empty Canvas
Scarlet red is the fire blazing in my memories But also the extinguisher.
Turquoise blue is the vastness of the sea I dream of But also the tiny cup of water I crush.
Carnation pink is the hope and love I witness But also a cut of the heart.
Clear is the shining hope I gaze But also the blinding tears that fall.
Apricot orange is the spark of excitement But also the dullness of rusty metal.
Shadow silver is the reflection of my life But also the knife that shatters it.
Forest green is the power of my life But also the plants that grow from death.
Black is the emptiness of my canvas But also all the colors of adventure.
Brush life with color, slather canvas with experience, Finish the unfinishable masterpiece!

What I Hate
I hate those who imprison life and confine their breaths Within unreachable walls.
The feathers of the birds plummet as they try to escape The fate of being consumed.
Collapsed birds await the next wind to try again Anticipating their slaughter.
But because they are weak, They can only howl?
I hate the divergence of the reprehensible elite and the Commendable indigents.
Under the endowment of the goddess, the magnates Must climb toward the bounty.
They must use their comrades as steps of a ladder and Climb towards the gift of wealth.
The weak can only watch as their life chip away from the corruption that is life.
Everyone forgets the name of the trampled blossoms.
Everyone Forgets
To be remembered is meaningless, everyone forgets.
When death overtakes the body, memories fade along with life.
The brilliant, the outstanding, the prominent, And even the unknown will be forgotten.
To save these memories into these objects, it will deteriorate nonetheless.
History, along with its heroes, villains, conquerors, and vanquishers, will perish with the fading memories.
All consign to oblivion, what is the point of living?
Certainly not to kill, leech, and destroy the world?
Mankind needs to take a stand, life is too boring, but even that will be forgotten.