Huddled in a corner of the universe
Their gravitational pull but a nudge, a whisper
back to itself by the hardened shell of loneliness
Fading warmth trapped in a core no being will ever penetrate to share
victim of its own success in hiding –
afraid of living, afraid of feeling.
Rain clatters on the tin porch roof
My hope, my faith
pour down the gutter into the earth
Nature cries my tears for me
I want so badly to die
I can taste the blackness
In futile desperation I reach for
the kill-switch on the sun
Lights out and all is done
The movie’s over, the reaper’s won
Life is a scam of struggle and pain
A Hollywood ending
never stood a chance
The game is rigged, only the favored lives
cross the finish-line
to take the prize
The rational response on any normal day
would be to cut my losses
and quietly walk away.
Aye, what a curse to have ever been born,
to be thrust into exile in this cold, foreign land!
What crime did I commit to deserve such a fate?
What obscure, unjust law did I unknowingly violate?
I do not recall any semblance of a trial,
no reading of the charges, no defense of any kind
And yet here I am in this prison of men,
hoping each moment for the nightmare to end
I formally request an early release
Is there a lawyer who’s qualified to handle the case?
…to draw up a petition and submit it to Zeus,
protesting my innocence – would it be of any use?
What I ask is quite simple, I believe it quite sane:
To return to the nothingness from which I came
Leave me in silence, leave me in peace,
blissfully having merged with the emptiness of space.