Oneway trip

He is so within
That he is without,
His world a floating mirage.
His head:
A salty pond of doubts.
His days, coloured by dreams,
His nights, conquered by screams,
He is isolated in the crowd.
Dead, he walks amidst living,
His skin: his soul’s shroud.
He is high,
And is travelling higher on the highway,
To a place that knows no pain,
And the souls residing there,
Are all ancient, and insane.
He has been on many trips,
This one, the final voyage,
That promises to set him free,
And gift him his salvation.


2 thoughts on “Oneway trip

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