Futile

With all the lights coming at him,
He needs the plain darkness,
In a life full of harness,
It's hard to stop and look up,
And think the ultimate of questions,
But once thought,
It ascends him from Earth,
Up above the clouds,
Takes him away from near,
Shows the futility of almost everything,
Gives him reasons to die,
Takes the life's Old Lie,
From then on, like God's way of defining;

<<whether you like it or not>>

Leave the darkness,
Come unhappiness onto stage,
He forgets sublunar doubts,
Becomes a ghost in a freak show,
Could've been the master,
To whom everyone'd take a bow
For that he is the freakiest,
Had he been noticed.
Once he feels the fear,
Of falling off,
He begs to feel the Earth,
Under his feet, again
Without noticing that
His body is begone.
The win of a loser.
The winner that loses all.


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