Instead of being born
you were given an approximation,
a number, and a grand lock
in a world made of half truths
and the whole a great salt ocean
that you will not tread

When you finally reach the surface
choking and gasping on salt water
you may realize your fatal error
and the god of wind won't fill your sails
he won't even grace your cheek
with a loving breeze of a hand

In death you may find no peace
only the absence of a body
drifting in a bitter daylight
halved and hollow hearted
all forms of life seek the simplest existence
nothing