They tell me that to live
is to love. Yet they lock
links on metal and
act
as though life is a burden
of the utmost degree, and
slump
their shoulders
like rooted trees.

They tell me I should live
as though I am dying, and that
Pursuit of the extreme is called an extension of life,
because it is not quite long enough.Then they
twist their heads, and brand a names upon an afterlife.

They clench their fists and grind their teeth
Lost in a belief that the sun dawns twice a day, and
Waiting for the trial of life to get by. They
Act as if
life is an encumberment, just the way the dying crow cackles at all passersby
;bitterly, like ugly shoelaces that have been dragged and ripped across gravelly floors.

And they are stuck, in this labyrinth of eternity, prisoners
to their own minds,
whom have locked and lost the keys,
of their very own doors.
And they chain themselves
to their own dying souls
in this lie, lost in the sea of falsities. And
They live
in sugarcoating of the future,
not ever knowing,
the beauty of life.