Pushing Decades


Reaching the quarter.

The century references dig 

in its depth is death.

No lights and abundance 

of noise.

We reached a pair of decades and

rushed for more.

Hated you.

Hated the past you.

Hated the you of now.

And hate the you in death.

Nothing makes you an angel.

Mold and plasma till

memories give you heart and smile.
Depth of the grave.

Depth of your human self.

Goodbye worthless 

And captureless

And ageless

you. Goodbye.

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