I.
He dies
In the middle of a lonely night
Climbing up the rugged side
From pain, it derives
Smily, jocund faces, We recognize
Only agony in disguise
Underneath, lies the monster they despise
Rampaging through the boundless, draconian white
You die,
By throwing yourself up high
from the sky
Wind careening by
Your face burned, tears blind the eyes
There’s only ten milliseconds to decide
And less than five before demise
But it shall suffice
You hymn, to panegyrize, eulogize and plagiarize
But eventually, no one could ever sympathize
Nor empathize
Maybe that’s just why
People live such a ridiculous lie
“That’s too much thinking,” you realize
Too riveting, muscles and blood fly, fly, fly
You die,
Instantaneously, a tower catches fire
Ignorant, the Gods deride:
Patheticity will not thrive
But that must suffice
For a baffling human life
Hence, you die,
Before anyone could finalize
You die,
In the middle of a not-so-lonely night
The Literary Forest Poetry Magazine 