The Freedom From Life

April 2, 2010
Anger welling underneath the surface of the boiling pot filled with tears.
Steaming, rising, spreading,
Encompassing the room with its everlasting grip.
Trying to keep hold, to stay in control,
Yet that fury is a fine smog,
Now a thick blanket of steam that clouds your eyes, Shrouds your mind.

Running through the mystifying fog,
Searching for a lighthouse in your ocean of despair,
Drowning in your sea of destitution.
Looking for a way out,
For an end to this everlasting maze.

Finding the right corner, but having turned left,
The deep abyss thickens.
Further into the jungle you delve,
Until there is no turning back:
No escape from the unknown,
Shrouded with misery.

Desperate tears flow down your cheek,
Smearing hopelessness all over the face of a child,
A child forced too fast to grow...
The end is near.

The mystifying maze,
The everlasting fog,
The nebulous mist,
And the all-consuming jungle.
They feed off your soul,
Reeking of the scent of innocence.
Fresh blood gleams off their fangs.

Suddenly, a voice is heard,
A whisper from the Prince of Darkness himself.
“I known of a bright shown light of freedom...”
A vision of liberation mingles with that bright star,
An end to all that is vile and harrowing and malicious.

For all that is experienced in life,
The miseries and the heartbreak, the woes,
Are seen through living eyes and felt through beating hearts.
The mist clears as this realization enters your mind;
A serene smile as you deduce that said freedom is death.





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