The Fading Life

I wonder why individuals are so subdued by the deads.

They lament of what haven't being finished

They anticipate that the future should bring back the toll.

Indiscretion am I, remaining amidst the night,

Remaining among the apparitions,

tallying their spirit,

remaining among the florets of expectations.

The field is brimming with seeds and swelling move

of deads, among my contemplations and different expectations. They attempt to raise from ground to the sky

in any case, this is futile!

The human demonstrated what it resembles -

to be tricked, disfavored by the individuals who you trust.

Just leftovers of seeds have left before

The present is lost and the time is excessively quick.

We fake that we're okay

we fake that we going to live

for whatever length of time that the sun sparkles

for whatever length of time that the night keeps going.

Try not to attempt to stretch

with confronting the loathsome life.

Goodness sweetheart! That is lie, that is inside and out falsehood!

The blooms blur and a while later beyond words.