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monochrome life


the simple pleasures of life,

desire, rage, calm.

satisfaction at where he stood
as the sun lit fire to the drowning sky.

the empty man –
his dead mother he did not mourn,
his girlfriend he did not love –

he murdered a man under a fiery sky,
the reason why remains obscure

but he felt no remorse or sorrow,
except a slight tinge of guilt
under duress at court

and when his notice for execution arrived –
the guillotine in in town square –

his only fear was that the walk to the guillotine
seemed like the walk to freedom,
a taste of civilian life he had not experienced for months
that rang of the bitter tang of innocence

but he felt no sympathy for himself,

for, he was simply dying,
the common fate of all humans –

perhaps he was dying earlier than most,
but the means no longer matter
when the ending goal is common.

the alternative of you and i –
how many things can we complete before we did? –

he wonders,
what’s the point if i am going to die?

the impermanence of the world,
even the strongest legacy will be washed away
with time

and, in the end, everyone turns into ash
dissipating into nothingness

inspired by The Stranger written by Albert Camus pessimism at its finest.

is life worth living if we are all going to die? the things we do will be eventually swept away with the tide of time, and there will be nothing left of us except perhaps the ghostly pass of ash in the sky. our legacies, if we lead any, will be chipped away by society until nothing but rubble is left. love will fade away into a mere companionship. death is the only true guarantee of an insincere society.


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