Mourning
I mourn, at a world in which
hearts never find rest
they keep running
after the next big trend
I mourn at the wandering eyes
for they won’t be ever satisfied
I also mourn, at their focus of affection
for it will soon be cast aside
I mourn already, for something that looks stable
but will surely crumble
for the unsteady bricks,
that will surely collapse
by only a minor quake
I mourn, even in the present
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when everything seems perfect
I mourn at how we
leave behind our true selves
for things that will soon change
how we pour ourselves
into sparks that will soon fade
there’s an emptiness inside
that can’t be filled, with all that shine
when things that are loved
aren’t enjoyed, due to intoxication
when life is lived
not even fully conscious
no matter how much love they get
a void remains inside, crying for help
I mourn at our inability
to see things as they really are.
