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Speaking of a cataclysmic bomb,
Craters in the soul of humankind,
This was you, then it was me
And we did this.
We wrecked the future of possibilities 
When we ran in the mire and muck
And coated ourselves with past stories.

So why aren't we asking ourselves why?
Why do we do this?
Why do we create  bad stories to run our lives?
The suck-the-life-right-out-of-you stories from yesterday,
And today,
Maybe tomorrow too.

We create the hell, 
Do the hell
Live in hell,
And forget heaven is an option.
We even destroy the best,
The good,
The plausible,
The wonderment,
The song clanging against
Our heart resonance.

Should we wish
To die like a video game?
Replay the storylines, 
Choose differently,
Maybe win at this,
This mystery of life.

Rather, let us beg the question,
Could we already be at the trying again,
Existing in the space in between,
And death never required?

© 2023 Loly Rinn
Photo by Alfonso Moreno on Unsplash
Published inLatest Poetry

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