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 comforting 

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.

– Anonymous


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