I envy the dead

Soul searching has left me barefoot,

Like the homeless man in search for a bettered life.

Abstract formalities of an everyday life coating my skin to its core

Deepened sadness disguised with a smile,

Like an army soldier crawling towards an enemy at war.

Like a fruit growing from a highest tree not being able to be digested upon.

I envy the dead.

Tranquility and freedom in abundance without effort,

Mortal riches weighing no worth for true value lies beyond.

Pain of the painfuls painfully pointless and odd.

Oh, what a heavenly thing it is to be gone,

Like the wind blowing through the hair of a blonde.

Delightful, rich and yet to you a norm.

I envy the dead.