He was an exister
Was bestowed the breath of mundanity
Never questioned
His parents
His teachers
Grew up to be a lawyer
Not to bring justice
But to be a lawyer
Because he never questioned
His parents
His teachers
And then he retired
He had saved all of his earnings
Not because he needed to
But because he never questioned
His parents
His teachers
Society
Finally he had retired
At last, he could live
But before he could
He took his last breath of mundanity
He died

From the softness of her wrist
Bleeds vibrant shades of red
But all she sees is black and white
A beating heart but dead
As tears cascade across her cheek
From kaleidoscopic eyes
Feels not but the paralysis
Sees only greyer skies
So blind to her own beauty
She breathes her final breath
Gone are the watercolours
Now shadowed by her death