HURRY THE END

NEVER ENDING GRIEF

As some stand frozen in the frigid temperature

of men’s hearts what shall we do

for that grief given them who cannot move?

Power, power is a terrible thing

when it condemns them stuck

in the barren winds of nothingness starving the soul.

Winds that starve the pained and troubled,

we find it easier to look away, easier to save ourselves

alone as one by one our companions fall to the failings

of the opportunity seekers who will never know

that at the last second of life, when the death rattle fades,

all are completely equal.

Everything after is a show for them waiting impatiently

for the vacuum to suck them

into the palace of power over men stuck in sadness,

unwilling to go on,

to fight for a good life,

a kind life anymore.

All is empty of thought

hunger is accepting the truth of worthlessness.

Death’s sting is no worry for the disheartened,

for it is a welcome thing that brings the warmth of the earth

where finally all that is, is without pain or sadness

a lifetime felt for them who have been taken by that icy wind before.

Call me brother no more for I am frozen,

naked and waiting, simply waiting

to be equal to them who destroyed my heart.

©2.25.2014