All humans suffer from the disease of life. We will all die so what's the point of trying to fill what little hours we have on this cruel earth? In many moons our flaming mother star will turn her back and explode, killing us all instantly. Cancers and wars, floods, and storms are all things that bring us to the end. Some foolish folks believe death is the disease, those are the glass half full kind. I would love to drink from the decaying half-full glass of human disappointment. Even stupider are those who believe we will go to the sky. What a foolish way to comfort yourself. When we die we will be put in the ground and have our eyes eaten out by worms, that is if we are so lucky to have a family to bury us. For someone as lonely as you will decay on the very floor you die. rotting and stinking until eaten by some maggots or fungus that consume your carcass like fresh steaming dumplings in a buffet line, dumplings of blood and bone of pain and suffering, of death. There is no use in trying to escape death for it is a code uncracked, an undeniable cure for the sickness that is living. If I were you I would rejoice at knowing an end will come. And your pain will be lifted
Credits to SirSkeet
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White Noise // Poetry
PoetrySome poetry I've written and some that friends have written ! Go follow @SirSkeet
