Is this it?
The end?
The end of it all?
I had always wished for a grandeur of a goodbye.
But then, who hasn't staged their death in their head over and over again?
And yet here I am
Bewildered at the very suddenness
But then, death has always surprised
It's almost like you had staged this moment, cherished the very idea of an overwhelming performance to a standing ovation
And yet, death decided to spoil it all
Death wouldn't just let you walk away with glory
As if she was getting her revenge
For the every one time I denied her
For the every one time I looked into her eyes with the audacity of immortality
Revenge is a dish best served cold
Death is the coldest of them all.
As the crimson veins turns cobalt
As the laid out skin shrivels up to wrinkles
The silence shivers into splinters
Whispers turn into conversations
Conversations turn into commotion
The elaborate walls lay wide awake
In an endless search
For
Shattered stories
Tattered tales
Peeled out poetry
With a glint of hope in their eyes
That someday someone would come looking for them
That someday the storyteller would come and pick them all, as if pieces of a broken mirror
And sprinkle it all in the thin air
The marred lives and the scarred faces would call it paperback.
Death is an inexpensive slapstick
The life
The times of the life
The people of the life
The works of the life
The lives of the life
Every singular makes history
What if the history was just a history of a few hours
History is history nevertheless
But then, do outlaws make it to history?
Or are they chosen to be forgotten in the corpses of the termites that feed off your legends?
The heroes condemn me for blasphemy
The respectables disdain me for defiance
The everyday men damn me for apostasy
The fallen stand at a distance
Not a word escapes
Not even a tear
The silences stand tall, as if a guard of honour
All my life I romanced death
And yet death feels nothing like the death I loved
And yet death feels nothing like the death I knew
And yet death feels nothing like the death I staged
Death feels nothing like death.
Death feels like nothing is death.
The end?
The end of it all?
I had always wished for a grandeur of a goodbye.
But then, who hasn't staged their death in their head over and over again?
And yet here I am
Bewildered at the very suddenness
But then, death has always surprised
It's almost like you had staged this moment, cherished the very idea of an overwhelming performance to a standing ovation
And yet, death decided to spoil it all
Death wouldn't just let you walk away with glory
As if she was getting her revenge
For the every one time I denied her
For the every one time I looked into her eyes with the audacity of immortality
Revenge is a dish best served cold
Death is the coldest of them all.
As the crimson veins turns cobalt
As the laid out skin shrivels up to wrinkles
The silence shivers into splinters
Whispers turn into conversations
Conversations turn into commotion
The elaborate walls lay wide awake
In an endless search
For
Shattered stories
Tattered tales
Peeled out poetry
With a glint of hope in their eyes
That someday someone would come looking for them
That someday the storyteller would come and pick them all, as if pieces of a broken mirror
And sprinkle it all in the thin air
The marred lives and the scarred faces would call it paperback.
Death is an inexpensive slapstick
The life
The times of the life
The people of the life
The works of the life
The lives of the life
Every singular makes history
What if the history was just a history of a few hours
History is history nevertheless
But then, do outlaws make it to history?
Or are they chosen to be forgotten in the corpses of the termites that feed off your legends?
The heroes condemn me for blasphemy
The respectables disdain me for defiance
The everyday men damn me for apostasy
The fallen stand at a distance
Not a word escapes
Not even a tear
The silences stand tall, as if a guard of honour
All my life I romanced death
And yet death feels nothing like the death I loved
And yet death feels nothing like the death I knew
And yet death feels nothing like the death I staged
Death feels nothing like death.
Death feels like nothing is death.
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