He climbed, he sat, he thought, he said:
“From complicated depths within my insides,
Across this narrow chest, I sigh.
The years have passed with speed unknown,
Perhaps by now I should have grown.
For vague reasons I remain stranded,
The more I try, the less I’m wanted.
Like now, I sit, often depressed,
Then I force a smile to fool the rest.
I offer up my heart in conflicting thought,
Broken severally, it’s begun to rot.
To be understood is what I most desired,
My efforts were fruitless, so now I’m tired.
I wish to disappear, escape existence,
End this faux life, end this pretense.
I imagine an end as solemn as possible,
Then I can forget the pain, forget the trouble.
Let no one know, so the question would be:
‘Who is missing? Who was he?’
My life is a plot twist of secrets and mysteries,
I admire simplicity, I’m weary of my disease.
I believed a lie too long,
I don’t know who I am anymore.”
He smiled, he cried, he jumped, he died.
Experiences of journeying humans 