Looks Like Yoda

In a world of devoid of emancipation

Like leaves too many question marks

On my conscience, why?

Why look up

The ground is so much more pleasing

And it's where these eyes belong

I renounce,

I renounce myself

What I have become is not

What I wish to be

Break my neck

I've become too accustomed to hopes

Hope's cruel grasp

Progression or regression

It all ends the same

In a world devoid

Emotionless

In a life such as this

Only death is certain

So why wait

Break my heart

Cut my throat

When everything has ended

What have we accomplished

Slaves by design

Break my neck