The following write-up is a poetic take on an art piece the creator made.
Thousands of eyes linger on me as I survive,
Questioning me numerous times
I don’t know what to say so I cry as much as I can
wondering if there is an end to this
“There is an end, there is an end”
I say to myself
It is soothing
and that is how I continue to live.
The smell of burning ashes
Or the silent sprinkling of water,
It all withers away as soon as we lay in a box
The feeling of mortality, is it really enough?
Or is it not?
Can we change our upbringing and end up somewhere else?
Instead of lingering in an abominable place,
Watching ourselves fall over and over again
Stuck in a room with a door and windows
Limiting our imagination, stuck in the shackles
Of the thoughts of others.
Can I find an exit from this grave,
Which will lead me to an ethereal place?
I stagger into the path unknowingly
Only to meet the end.