We know
How this story
Concludes

Now it’s time
To write
The last sentence

Of a life
That was reared
In phrases

And remembered
So briefly
With words,

As others
Will hardly
Resist

Abiding
By lies
Less exclusive

Of interests
Common
And wasting

What talents
They may
Never seek –

Unlike
Dreams
Of my own

Which speak
As terms
Everlasting

From drudgery
Far less
Defining

Than the beauty
Of art
Meant to touch.

Beyond
How worlds
Do insist

We pursue
Such hurt
Detrimental

In packages
Deemed
Our successes

Or triumphs
As vain
As that choice

For delivering
Knives
As a gift

When inflicting
Wounds
By our message

That idleness
Packaged
As worship

Is the meaning
Our hearts
Do betray –

To find
That role
Worth a chance

And seeking
God
Within reason

Till the need
To feel
Becomes lethal

And expression
Martyrs
Our wills,

Binding fate
To our
Tales

As the legacy
Beckons
To kill us

Despite
Those smiles
We’re showing

As death
Begins
It’s approach.

No,
Im constantly
Saved

By the verse
Which still
Goes wnwritten

As I face
This blankness
Before me

Knowing faith
Is that period
End.

– J. Pigno