We

A short poem regarding the inflation of every individual's ego, believing that life and death are our own.

The taste of dirt
Inevitable home
One which we dream
Will never come

Some want a pass
Others, a delay
To mother's arms
To sweet Pele

Our questions today
A limitless struggle
A lifetime meditation
Meaningless sigil

Kin do not connect
The ego is stressed
Our end is ours
Not to be missed

The truth is not clear
Not one has seen
To end this life
Is to live between

Author's Note

Lines 2 and 4 of every stanza are supposed to nearly rhyme to create a feeling of "offness" while the final stanza rings clearly with its pair rhyming.