random poems

A Hypocrites Wish

Still it lingers despite how
The aroma of death that polluted
Our town for centuries had supposedly
Wondered away at the sight of disarray
And dismay, and yet the smell is still pungent

Our lungs filled with the chalky sorrows
Of mourning and grief until we chocked on
The feeling, our hearts so overwhelmed by
The scene before us to the point where
Breathing became a chore once more

And silhouetted hands clasped our shoulders
Telling us to "go on" despite the hardship where our knees
Buckled underneath the weight of it all, our backs having
Cracks and fractures from the pressure of merely
Living

Is believing that the hands of death
Were more welcoming
Than any human hand that reached out to me
a sin?

And to leave you alone where the stench
Of mourning was so toxic and overbearing
Was that in vain for me to die first
And tell you to "go on" when I had the chance
To live in pain,
With you?