The burden I was inherited,
was like the moon.
It followed me to my death bed.
from afar it looked bright and sphere,
The closer It came,
it burned my skin and turned it to ashes.
The ashes immersed,
Into the water so green
Was I left amidst the mosses?
Traces of me,
As I could see,
Were all a mimick to what I never wanted to be.
Parts of me indecisive,
unable to choose between the monochromes of my life.
Parts of me determined,
to fight the intruders in my head.
Surviving, I am.
Not living my life.
There’s difference between the two, isn’t it?
