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

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 fulfilling 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