Conquest for Death
stubbing our toes on the standard bar
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A herd-like existence
Goals are consistent
The standard bar set so low
The mass stubs its toes daily
But some put off the rush
Side step away from the crush
And seem to enjoy life
Without the fear of failing
But winter is coming
Have you gathered your nuts?
Or can your conjure last minute magic
To ensure you have just enough?
Creating in one sleepless night
With perfection and style
What it takes other monotonous days
Of drudgery ankle-deep in mire
Stubbing our toes on the standard bar