Discussing Death

Take a sip of the silence it breeds,

Open the portal, let all time freeze,

Pale and cold, it smells of transcendence,

Eerie and beautiful, with all its obsessions.

An unknown hope, an isolated fate,

An incensed theatric, it waltzes with you.

Sometimes it lingers in the corner,

Thrives in shadows and smoke,

Or it cradles you to sleep,

With nothingness awoke.

How attached are you to your mortal coil?

You sprint towards this portal, barefoot on wet soil,

Oh, cramp, cramp, should’ve gone slowly,

Spare me from these anguished dreams,

don’t let them control me.

With acceptance not in relief,

but in realisations that you always carry grief,

A dance between the ripe and a soggy mess,

Bleaching you inside out, feeling cleansed nevertheless.