We are born choking in the darkness,
Wrapped by blood, a womb full of arcane.
A pipe shoved into our skin, feeding us like a harness,
Our first steps toward light, adolescence destroyed.
As we grow old; lights blur slowly,
sunlight fades,
And we fall through the vertical line,
losing our horizon.
Some of us will use measured doses in the life of trade,
We intoxicate our blood till our throat tightens.
Then we remember our childhood,
swinging on a swing,
Strange, but some of us still swing by life,
and some by rope.
With the vast difference
life's swing brings spring,
And rope will give you wings, freedom of hope.
After decades of suffocation, life exits you,
Maybe you will get your happy seven minutes to live.
Maybe eternity waits, indifferent to your name.
Or your existence thins; ash with no witness,
nothing remembers you ever burned.
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:54 AM UTC
We are born choking in the darkness,
Wrapped by blood, a womb full of arcane.
A pipe shoved into our skin, feeding us like a harness,
Our first steps toward light, adolescence destroyed.
As we grow old; lights blur slowly,
sunlight fades,
And we fall through the vertical line,
losing our horizon.
Some of us will use measured doses in the life of trade,
We intoxicate our blood till our throat tightens.
Then we remember our childhood,
swinging on a swing,
Strange, but some of us still swing by life,
and some by rope.
With the vast difference
life's swing brings spring,
And rope will give you wings, freedom of hope.
After decades of suffocation, life exits you,
Maybe you will get your happy seven minutes to live.
Maybe eternity waits, indifferent to your name.
Or your existence thins; ash with no witness,
nothing remembers you ever burned.
