Living the Death
By casting off the invisible strings,
Silencing the deafening screams,
Drowning the innumerable dreams,
Erasing the inglorious memories,
Can I ever be free?
What’s the purpose of living the death,
the death of the my very being,
Living with the stranger within!
Burried in the infinite depth,
With no scope to come out of the casket,
What’s the purpose of living this death?
Rotting carcass beneath the dandy mask,
The stench of the putrefying will,
Suffocating the remnant of life within,
How can I live within this coffin?
What’s the purpose of living this death?
Withering, wrinkling, rotting, putrefying...
Is there a meaning to this living, being this being?
