To be mortal
What does that mean really?
To be tied within the strings of the endless cycle?
For a soul to be shoved down the throat of the husk we call being
Is it possible to reach beyond the confines of normative life?
Can you grasp Death by the jugular and force her to her knees?
Or does Death do the same to us?
When we reach the end of our separate alleys
What waits beyond the chilling black of Death's door?
What can we expect to be met with on the other side?
A heaven filled with cherubic hymns?
Or a hellish plane of the sorrowful departed?
Screaming in agony as chains of anguish rip into them for their sins
Can we not move past our mortality?
To be seen for more than our lives?
But our legacy
What we leave in our wake
Should be our remembrance
Not the hatred and acrid spite we breath
like smoke from the mouth of a dragon
Like ash
From a conflagrant butterfly
Mortality is by nature
Disgusting
