"Hark!" declares the angel of death
as he tramples forward,
collecting debris,
of women and children.
Their faces contorted,
by the wretched stench of waste,
the smell of blood and burnt remains.
Will it ever stop hurting?
"No more!" I shout to the world,
while they ignore,
trapped in their own boxes,
afraid to see what's real.
Like organic matter decomposing,
in a cesspool of ancient lies,
my body yearns for truth.
When will the masks come off?
"I'm finished!" I say!
let me leave this world.
Transfixed on another realm
as I walk towards a fading light.
There is no more time,
for it has now expired.
We are running out of breath
drowning in yesterdays sorrows.
"Goodnight," I whisper,
to the crying children,
their mothers holding them tight.
Perhaps we'll meet again.
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