I am obsessed with the folds and the creases

The bloodshed, famine, and diseases 

Obsessed with the human concept of time

Obsessed with the need, the stability of rhyme 

And every stanza becomes a broadened lie

As I'm still awake I wonder why,

I'm still counting every breath

And insist on taking even steps

Expanding with depth,

Sinking in regret,

I'm obsessed with the faintness of color in the sky

Obsessed with the longing, the longing to just die

Why I want to watch my shrivel up into gray 

And feel my bones and tendons slowly decay

Why I've chosen to live in consistency and fear

And when I melt to ash, will it become clear?

Is it possible to live

As everyday becomes my last?

Is it really all I fear

A life that's sure to pass?