My Kindred's End

I am like Thursday. Confused where to begin, defiant over the nearing end. I am wanting to live, but longing to die There is nothing more fruitful than seeking less irrelevance over life. Nonetheless, I remain sober and less Who are we to despise who we are? Despicable, admirable; who are we to blame? Death nears the people who least expects Life happens to dark commodities called demise Problems come on fleet. Waiting for pain to pierce through A subtle pinch to the soul Flinched drowning before realizing Breathed the heavy earth Seeking Goodbye to the false universe See me on a sudden blink I am a red flower with fake thorns A creeping delicacy with tasteless anomaly Devious to the eyes, warm inside Even the same kind are wanderers to my being From poetry to prose Life’s uncanny I have disposed I crave for my calling The end I suppose Would you still want me when I’m not myself?