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 moulds my destiny

Life is the reasoning for the cause

My existence bids to natures laws

My body a shell of human cells that contain me

Myself a kaleidoscope of thoughts that wont 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.