Untitled #3

Interweaving words, gleaming threads of silver spilling onto

Fantasies, like sparkling rains of liquid diamonds, life is short and

Reality's too long to imagine, as if the stars were there for us to number,

Label and make worthless.

 

 

Destructive ways, the death of one seems so insignificant,

Infinite miles of darkness where the stars burn out, there are no

Angels, there's no hell.

Our punishments will meet us while we live, death makes them only

Useless threats.

 

 

We feel the cut and scar of every action; when the days fade into

Nothing, our debts to non-existent gods are paid in a fool's gold of

Pain, we will be rewarded with an end to our suffering

Though that end has come too late.

 

 

I'm not afraid to die, just as you're not afraid to sacrifice your true self for

Friends that will only put the dagger in your back when you stray from

The cages they need to stay close to the herd.

My life is pointless if it's

Not my own

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"death makes them useless threats"

i wonder about that often...what is after this? anything at all or is this just it.

and if there is life after, i do think hell is on earth.

another really well woven piece, your imagery and metaphors are vivid...and compelling.