The Eagles Very Last Prey Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Unfiled, unprocessed, empty words of solitude.
Lonilyness is cancer of misery.
Who can survive in it.
Not me says every voice in my head.
The rotten disgust latches on with every claw it has.
How and why become question from which only oblivion exist.
A man without reason, isn't really a man at all.
Being around such maddness, can be so deafing that soon the loudest screams become mere whispers among wind blowing the trees.
Can I even hear it, Can I even begin to comprehend.
If insanity is really a place with no true meaning at all, why is it played like its the best and only sounds of music.
Does it harbor it's very own ego.
Does it alter the reality one is currently living in.
If it does hows does it, and why do we let it.
If sensation of pain is numbed long enough.
Do we lose all faith and trust.
Do we become so indifferent that all we see is what is good for us.
Angry is the stranger who ignored.
Angrier is the person not willing to take the risk in meeting the stranger.
So many paradoxs.
How does one ever truly find balance in utter chaos.
Do wear invisible blinder to that which is going around us.
I am a eagle, and I am just hunting for the prey.
Is that how premative the evolution of humankind is?
We as body, we as living organism, must try and find a way for all with out losing ourselfs in the process