empathy
How can I go on like this?
What I fear about this poetry is the cadence
Of rhythm breaking life long sentences
That grant no parole, but solitary solace
Swift climax, the far and few between
That raise the bar of expectation so ever
Slightly above your chin it almost makes
Ones present gasp for air or grasp for
Their lives as they reach the upper utmost
Despair echelons of their existence
Death aims to please everyone
It is far-reaching and treacherous
It arises out of thin air to lower the veil
Not to unveil, but to convey its presence
To make ones present refrain from thinking
That highly of themselves, to lower one
Into submission, to make one wear its
Penchant around for ages or days
Those hard times
Times ones writhe counting seconds
In anticipation of a warm embrace
A moment of personal confinement
Times ones may go gentle into that good night
Times that lift the veil of light onto
The wonders of childbirth
Life aims to please everyone
However it does not.
Like this great speech that does no
Good to anyone, but great to all
Like this penchant I carry with me
Around my neck for keeper’s faith
Like this pen chant one should sing
All but flat, all but none.
—
Andrei Nico
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