What do you do for a living
and how much money do you make?

Where did you go to college,
was it ivy league? Or somewhere I never heard of?

What have you contributed to the world
and what legacy will you leave behind?

At what point in my timeline did these
question make my stomach ill?

Why am I trapped between give and take?

Must we all live in the foreseen world and
give up the natural flow of our lives?
To satisfy the desires of titans
while we scramble to die?

We test the waters
first with our toes,
to take the first unknown step
in the naked ocean
we reside

Stage smiles in photographs
as we know
only ink can truly capture
the raw, inner self

We celebrate picturesque
landscapes donning walls
of their master's sanctum,
as nature is force to
retreat behind a concrete
dystopia

We kiss the lips of death
and press our hands
upon the dark cloth
feel the woven
thread,
to nurture our souls
when are bodies
are not fed

Rain smashes into the window pane
The sound is what I imagine bullets make
if heard from deep inside a battle tank
The trees show resilience to the wind's pressure
to give up their commanding height
The sky is a few shades away from night
interrupted by random strobing lightning light