Death’s Coercion

You don’t belong here,

He says,

You don’t fit in,

He claims,

You will never be happy,

He promises.

But is that true?

Is everything that happens, a pointless endeavor,

Is everything in our plane of existence a temporary scourge,

Is happiness truly fleeting, or is there a way to capture it.

To hold it hostage.

To claim it as your own, to make it a basic building block of your life.

Yet he says,

Life is only pain,

Yet he promises,

I will take the pain away.

But I won’t give in.

With fire in my belly and steel on my tongue,

I will not give in.

I will fight, fight against the “dying of the light”.

The dying of my perfect world.

The dying of the illusions of my childhood.

The dying of the world that surrounds me.

I will fight.

Fight forever, against the melancholy of sentient life.

And that is truly aesthetic.