Some find shelter in homes built with burnt
bricks and concrete metals
but, I could only find this body, this
fleeting candle to house my soul.
They carve iron kiosk fitted with ventilator for
their transient breath maybe it would last beyond the lapsing time
but, I have travelled on foot to several wilderness
pestering my breathe if it could release me from this rotting tin.
They have diet full of several lives, nurturing herbs and antigens,
But, I only eat from the wrecking worms, the feces
of death plunging deep into the depth of here after.
They are pillars of lies willing to last
but I am stroller of the earth longing to go.
Life itself promises no stay that is why I
have received it with basket of thought….
