Born Affluent

There is enough pain in this world to suffer any manEnough sorrowEnough sadnessEnough emptiness to ink our pages withinThere is tragedy—Enough to fuel constantly on our arid dreamsAnd late at night,The same dream keeps us awake till tomorrows dawnAnd the death itself upon us, does not show up so easyBut when it does, it does …


Who am I No longer I exist No body Not this mind Another possession Another I Another breath Paralyzed Another day I atrophy Fossilize Dust my soul In your remains I exist Infinite Impotent As the void In you seek To find me Shall find yourself