More on self-deprecation and resolution, thus.

Note the title. And the conclusion of the poem. Vanity. Well not really.

Stuck by the needles of the past

Coming to life before you now,

You want to bury the dead?

Starving and diseased,

Wreaking of inner decay,

Leaving pestilent trails around you,

You want to cure the illness?

You want to make this train stop?

You want to rebuild this place?

Pacing and reminiscent,

Digging a quiet trench for yourself,

Tired of trying something new,

Exhausted by self-deprecation,

Wasted and empty and dying,

Settle by the solid wall.

This is your foundation,

Remember it as you take another journey.

These thoughts break down to a pattern;

Your memories will come and go;

Don’t attach so tragically to them.

Quietly, calmly, the vase begins to crumble.

Surely, truly, you are coming home.

Reborn again inside your mind.