Stranger
A strange creature,
surely, we are.
We love the pastime,
yet dread its aftermath.
A strange creature,
surely, we are.
We aim for sky,
filled with stars and light,
but get lost in our way up.
A strange creature,
surely, we are.
Who were meant to be happily living,
live in dread of stained prizes.
A strange creature,
surely, we are.
We live for corrupted paper,
yet leave it before the coffin.
A strange creature,
surely, we are.
But what if we stop,
use our conscience,
question, the very idea of us.
Maybe we will realize,
how strange we really are.
- Rinsuki
(kindly note this is my original work and don't copy it. Although reposts of the original post is appreciated a lot:)
context of the poem :
this poem is based on the notion how we humans have innately increased the complexity of our lives. How we have killed ourselves multiple times, even before the final dawn. How we could have lived peacefully, satisfied by eating, singing and dancing. How we could have actually enjoyed our limited time in this paradise, which is soon turning into a rotten hell. Maybe if we stop the locally common pursuit of rat race, we will understand the true meaning of our existence.
