A Fictitious Design

Sitting here tryin to sort the the thoughts in my mind
There I find, that time is a fictitious design, assigning people tasks

To those who decline to ask. To those who wear masks

I bask in the thought that I don’t believe in time

Only believing in this instance, this worded sentence 

For it’s the only time that I’m given the chance for repentance 

This secular body, will soon breathe its last breath 

So I illustrate no fear of death, because my soul can never die 

I defy to imply that this world is all there is, and as a kid I always did 

So I trust that my soul will live for a timeless existence, 

I’m defined as subsistence, as God views me from a distance