Once came the one who spoke so plain,  
All potential was theirs to drain.  
An unnoticed self, warmhearted and soft,  
With every word, our burdens aloft.

In silence, they touched what I dared not show,  
I forever wonder, what is it they saw?  
My bleakness, the nihilism in my eyes,  
The stillness, a glimpse into the world’s cries?

Cosmos separated our two souls,  
Aware of this, we continued our roles.  
Nothing hinders an illusionary choice,  
Not the chaos, nor absurdity’s voice.

Myself, a corpse in their mortuary,  
Its only paradise, its sole sanctuary.  
I am not myself, I dare not claim,  
This body, a baggage of rot and blame.

I am myself, I am the echoes of pain,  
All sorrow, all resistance in vain.  
I am myself, I am the throes of night,  
A hopeless runner from life’s plight.

They, and all, I see,  
Fellow runners with the fantasy to flee,  
This earthly massacre, this deadly scene,  
And to desperately pass by unseen.

A story left untold, with all its gains,
I hold on to its scrappy remains.
No purpose, no rainbows in their embrace,
Nothing compelling enough to trace.

Yet in their soft voice, I hear,
All their tragedies, all their fear.
The fear of becoming of weight,
In a world of determined fate.

I turn my back, and so do they,
Leaving all the maybes and what’s there to say,
To decompose as we're meant to,
Casually pitied, and walked through.