Vilify

You, too, will also die. When it’s time to go, you can’t take it with you. All of your pointless endeavors, all of your empty words. All your superficial calluses, even your futures are absurd. Your wrinkles are obvious, a regret some don’t get to carry. Your body ravaged by time, a gift rewarded to so few. What really matters regarding life and death? You will not be spared. You will endure the brute force of chaos risings. You will compromise all of your efforts and failures. Whatever you manipulate will only be transformed. You are a beacon of wasteful hardships. A faith extorted and extended beyond logical means. Your redemption won’t come from applause. Not from foreign adoration or false fame. You are the last dying hope of metamorphosis. Your illusions are not influencing me. Your mass appeal only deludes me. A temple harnessing artificial energy. A tomb where none of your avarice follows. You built your monuments to showcase meaning. I don’t want any of what you’re selling. A traveling salesman to offer tricks and potions. You’re the ringleader of a silly circus full of divided devotion. You will not split me in half. You will not make an admirer out of me. You will not make a follower out of me. I don’t worship glass houses. I don’t envy such breakable elements. I will build a greater me out of sustainable material. I will evolve as I should with the time that is given to me. I won’t pay your debts. I won’t extract your tolls. I don’t owe you a damn thing