Numbers - The Green Leaves

Disregarding the definition of the word

Variables in an incoherent system

Devoid of value, the formula runs repeatedly

In an infinite loop

Seemingly without disruption, the system flows

The system flows

Numbers stacked high on pallets

Packed tight and nigh on written off

Numbers racked endlessly in open fields

Meaningless

Data collected from the beginning of days and

Discarded without analysis

Serving only the process it was applied to and

Denied any catharsis

Where a flame once burned, now fire is deprived

Of the arsonist

It burns on its own, somewhere, alone

The firekeeper has gone missing with no guarantee of

Return, the fire is left unattended

Doomed to burn out promptly

Six, seven, eight, nine

The numbers await eagerly for the cycle to repeat

Six, seven, eight, nine.

Realistically speaking, worthlessness redefined

The numbers merely exist

They used to be stellar

Veins throbbing, wishing the blood drawn

Now frail, withering and blank faced, awaiting a day

They find application

The formula runs repeatedly in an infinite loop

The formula changes

Negative, it remains the same

The numbers do not respond well

Anxiously awaiting the day they can abandon

The system

Patient, they seem

They exist in an exact falsehood

Questioning their own presence, the system fails

The system fails

We’ve all thought about it

The topic — actively discussed

A system without application

Inevitably doomed