Nithing

 

 

It's been a while,
Since last I said:
"All the dreams within this world
Are revolving inside my head."

 

I haven't even seen a sun,
So bright that it could paralyze;
Yet to breach the importance
Of what I must come to realise.

 

Day to night, a glowing screen in front of apathetic eyes.
No hopes, no desires,
Only inertia, and somber skies.

 

Must a chance befall a skeptic,
For him to see the merit?
Why out of all passions to be ingested
Has he chosen to settle for this?

 

At the age of six, I saw my father leave -
Thus my essence diverged in two.
A clear distinction from the boy
That his father, a wonderful man, never knew.

 

Nothing brings change, everything remains the same.
As if happiness is collateral for the agony you feel,
Whilst clearing a throat in order to say:
"It's raining? Suppose I won't care about anything today."

 

I always believed that the road less traveled was the brightest;
That it was humble to traipse its troubles.
But ever since the light had darkened
I've been caged in the weight of its rubble.

 

Thousands, if not millions, for years
Soaked by blood and salt.
Paths are innumerable,
And it is, without doubt, despicable to ponder
On which to navigate.

 

There is one sole similarity that every human shares:
Not a single person alive,
Had ever once asked to be here.

 

Why must we choose? It's meaningless all the same.
I can not write as they did;
And it is not justifiable to work oneself into decline
For the sake of persevering through a sordid game
Invented by such a marvelous "Benefactor"
That let it occur.

 

Why must this illogical joke be played out
By marionettes?
Those poets praised life,
But I reject it.