79

I extinguished years ago,

like a candle flame

under glass,

when I pass

you won’t care

no one cares,

I’m a stone’s throw

away from suicide

an echo denied 

its resonance,

what is love?

I wish I was peace,

those who read this 

that feel peace

will never understand

the rivalry, 

continually crippled 

at the hands of anxiety

and tailor made 

self-fulling prophecies

 

prescription pills and 

SSRIs deny me my heart,

two weeks before 

my father died 

he finally realised

I hated being alive,

I said, 

“it’s taken 79 years 

for you to figure that out?”

he was cremated 

and came home in a pot 

understand, that’s your lot,

dust and ashes,

most of us never matter,

you can tell yourself 

otherwise, dressing 

yourself up in a godly disguise

but you never mattered

and you never will