Poetry

MORTE 

by DP Carlo

Each painful step is a sin

of conscience and truth;

a malice unspoken,

a shout unheard.

Why do you go on?

Keeping  forward, I ask.
It is empty and void.
It's nothingness prevails.
It is purposeless and rough.
It is damned for eternity.
Why do you keep hoping?
There is nothing to come out.
Live and die, live and die;
grow and wither, be happy and cry.
You're a full-fledged deviant.
You're a sinner of shame.
It is your nature, do not scorn;
thus, each step adds to your sin.
You are godless, it's true;
a deviant, murderer - pure evil.
Your life is a sin.
Then why do you go on?
Why do you keep charging forward?
Why do you hope? Laugh?
Why do you live a void life?
You are a speck of nothingness -
without life, without meaning.