Shell

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.