It's the permanent numbers etched into the skin
to remind oneself that there will come a day,
that this world will cease to exist with a concluding spin.
It is here, I shall pray for all to embrace one another
in a final display of vulnerable affection whilst we decay.

A seed of saving leeched by the greed of parasitic weeds.
The very inception of its breed spelled inability to succeed.
Constant desiring to liberate persecutions and afflictions,
but it is this exact hunger that leads to internal inflictions.
One cannot do it alone, so add it to the list of unfortunate convictions.

Time is short, yet the countdown remains for this stupid man suit.
Dare to engage in this pursuit to bear rejuvenating fruit?
It matters not, for all roads en route lead to the same absolute.
Stoically resolute, cling tight to this eventual demise,
for perhaps a sacrifice is needed to finally see the sun rise.

Maybe, just maybe, this feverish dream will be sought through
"and I can breathe a sigh of relief because
there will be so much to look forward to."