There Is No Goodness
There is no goodness in my nature,
It’s only sores, and rot, and mulch…
What was the goal of my creation?
Why in the hell it hurts so much?
It’s all defined from the beginning:
What is permissible, what’s not…
So, why are daily seconds streaming
And wash away into the night?
Why try to reach in contradiction,
To suffer, learn, to water land,
To give away all this perfection
In final breath that comes to end?
From A to Z it’s predetermined,
From brightest climb – to bleakest fall:
First scream of baby in infirmary,
Last hissing sound of dying soul…
1979
Copyright © Roman Tunkel | Year Posted 2013
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