Though what you aspire
To be
Isn’t much
More than what you
Desired to
Serve as the crutch
Props you up
At the end of days
All in the thralls
Of finality
Keep holding on
As the walls
Closing in
To diminish
The outer appearance
And render you
Bending to
Internal spirits
Extending their hand
To the one it’s been dealt
As if it could be held,
Could be felt
By itself