Drawing close to ruin
The walls cave slowly in
These last moments
Are dedicated to thought
Love is fleeting
Pain is undeniable
Life is short
Death is absolute
Souls pass back and forth
Struggling for existence
Becoming more than just
A feeling or a desire
Positive and negative
Black and white
Or are they all just
Trapped within the grey
Light dwindles
Shadows bind
And eyes close
As it all ends.
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Comments
This poem reminds me of Bloc Party's song SXRT, or Muse's song Thoughts of a Dying Athiest. The whole concept is a good one - the contemplative suicide note. Sometimes we can only get perspective when we look at the whole picture at the end.
I have to say though - I'd rather be in the grey than in the black and white. Black and white, to me, places boundaries around someone. Is that not a form of trapping?
All in all though, this poem is a good representation of futility. Without meaning or purpose, life is as you describe.
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