The bastard born to a bastard father,
And a whore mother, who didn’t know better.
Life then proceeded from that unfortunate moment in time, as my soul receded from this body of mine.
Evening was that hour; the night has lasted forever.
So long says I, welcome says Death the benign.
Fury and wrath built this path, the soles of the spirit are cut up, bleeding.
Only viewable to that soul receding, and sole it is in its fleeting.
Repeating each step with a weary smile,
Going on because Death the benign will only resign itself for a while.
Only alive until the concrete clockwork of time can take me there,
To the grave, to be nowhere, and everywhere, where all is fair.
To all that claim they care, they should have let me die where it came closest.
Even now they lack sympathy, but maybe the epiphany will touch them at last.
Not to bring a child into a sick, malicious, impoverished, cruel world.
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