Ending what has started is no simple thing.
When circumstances align, there are no walls to hold life from unfolding.
No blade dull enough to let blood no longer wanted.
No rope worn enough to stop air from filling overburdened lungs.
No bullet small enough to destroy the brain turned to rot.
Essentials become burdens while poisons become water.
Cold’s sweet warmth pushes out heat’s frozen reception.
Rivers of blood flow freely, diverted from the ecosystem that needs it.
Silence is a cacophony when noise is empty.
Humanity is servant while demons are king.
Unseeing bystanders, unhearing and unfeeling,
Having blinded themselves, unaware of the numbness they portray.
To the company of corpses, humanity is no different.
Their eternal rest reigns as elixir to great wounds.
It takes the place of mortal strife and replaces it with righteousness.
Death’s translucent call hums incessantly through barren caves.
He waits for a reply with gold and brooches in hand.
Bold, the trinkets taken, the path clears.
Silent is he; the savoir of me, and the one who sets me free…