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I fear
one day
I will be on the street
asking for alms of humble passers-by.
Yet, I fear it not.

It is a mere dream
waiting to manifest itself
as my future.
Then
when hunger and death alight my forlorn life,
I shall be lost
in oblivion —
much like my own beginning.
Utopia,
I dream,
is a world peopleless
where I am the lone citizen and the king.

I loathe the sun,
it blinds mine eyes
as does tears.

Darkness (my friend)
is kind enough to
conceal my wretched existence.
Death on my bed
sits fornicating:
a show-off.
Relatives, friends, dad —
all joined this
grotesque procession
to be ****** one last time.
I can’t
see where the queue begins.
But I must
take my place soon
if only to hide from
Death’s (violet) furtive gaze
which I've known forever.
Written on a night I was convinced I would die. Like every other night.

— The End —