Sometimes the words are more unclear than the feelings
But the tear
Alone in its morbid salinity
Melts into emotional vacuity.
If no one will listen
There is no need for pleading
We protest solitude
And threaten another
Unnecessary suicide.
Perhaps our epitaph will
Soon reek among the others––
Among the blood-red
Obituaries
Of silent parallel corpses––
Spirits
Proclaiming deathlessness
Beyond the echo.
And why must we suffer so?
Life itself is the reason.