Anathema

Just a simple poem.

Anathema
To have fallen and died, and those who were left are now descending into the ever more oblivion of time.
To what do these paths have meant? Where do I proceed after such occasions and failures?
How can I see the skies as vividly blue and black, when they no longer give the powerful sensation of life and death;
When all I see is the awfulness of twilight, the limbo of hell and earth...

To die would not assure strength nor a satisfactory life,
But ensure the sensations of lose, uncompleted destiny, and the destruction of dreams.
Living is the strongest will one can possess, forging their destiny from unknown forces;
But giving in is what kills us.

Taste not the pool of society's givings, for it harbors the truth of life;
Desecrating purpose, ambition and all natural processes,
The essence of life.