Unending Death

Standing near the window sill,
Witnessing the freedom of the world.
The window feels as if the dungeon’s darkness,
That fills in a terror of imprisonment.


Sometimes the terror of imprisonment,
Proliferates negatively,
Proliferates in such a way,
That it dominates the terror of death.

The web created by a common spider,
Gives the outlook of a confused felt.
The felt which brings in a love for hatred,
The love for a freedom in the cell.

The flight of the pigeons, feels as if,
The doors of the dungeon are broken.
But the pointed fingers of the public,
Feels as if the guards are shooting over again.

The living dreams are darkened as if,
The world seems to be a stationed death.
The life which needs to be killed for now,
Is feeling as if an unending death.

The nights are better than the light of the day,
The death is better than a life insane.
Living is a curse which is difficult to breath,
World is difficult, and difficult to leave.

Thoughts of the death are terrifying enough,
Thoughts of the death are painful enough.
Pain is the only reason of incoming death,
Death is the reason of pain in affect.

Finally, my friends, it is death incoming,
Incoming by the own will and feeling.
The decision of death is full and final,
Cause this is a suicidal death unending.