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?
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