The world wants to be better than the rest.
It is an opinion embedded deep inside human nature
that a longer life is the most desirable goal.
We created empires of steel and fortresses of indifference
all in a bid to alienate the rest of our kind,
because a warped little birdie told someone that hatred is the way to immortality.
Immortality. A word more attractive than the most beautiful young maiden
more enticing than Adonis himself, a word everyone wants to call their own.
Immortality, our way of telling the world that we have won,
that we shall never meet the end, that we are no less than Gods.
Immortality, our drug. A hope that one day, we will not have to meet the Grim Reaper.
But how many can actually handle immortality without being reduced to insanity?
The slow demise of everything that meant life, each obstacle conquered, and then what?
Writing poetry until the words blur into each other.
A hundred years more of boredom beyond compare.
After conquering all your deepest desires at a leisurely pace, the end of life, but not of living.
When lovers turn into ghosts of your past, and time ravages their skin to bone,
your family, friends, all in their graves, and you destined to walk alone forever.
Your world will be a graveyard, come judgement day, after which you will be truly alone.
No fear of anything the world has to throw at you, but do you really want that?
The beauty is in the end, life is only worth a damn because it won’t last forever.
The only reason we have dreams, is because there is little time on our hands.
Life is a melody, and the melody is only here to come to an end.
Lovers hold on because one of them will, without exception, move on.
So enjoy life’s curtains opening, the soft notes of the piano. Ride the crescendo like a wave.
And when there is a curtain call, take a bow to thunderous applause.
Finally, when the music’s over, turn out the lights.


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