Friday, January 13, 2012

Die

Would you like it when a thousand knives
Invade your dull, colourless, tasteless lives?
What would you know of pleasures
Hidden in passion or longing?
You who live in search of meaning
Without knowing what you seek
You make a pantomime
Out of a tragedy
And end up living out
A role in the eternal comedy.
Fools die.

6 comments:

kathydobbs said...

I like the poem.

Sayan said...

Thank you!

J Cosmo Newbery said...

One of the labels is 'dark'. Aptly chosen for the work.

kathydobbs said...

Thanks for the comment.

Olive Oyl said...

has a surreal feel to it. :)

Sayan said...

@ J Cosmo: Hmmm I appreciate that. Thanks!

@Olive Oyl: Indeed? It was unintended. But yes it came out that way. :)