What you are about to read is my first nibble at poetry and philosophy, written when I was thirteen.
A newspaper article- which spanned over half the front page of a recognised newspaper – about the death of a laborer at a factory, taught me quite a few things about how the world works.
The innocent man was crushed under faulty machinery, for which the CEO personally apologized. The CEO even wrote a few words about the deceased; saying the laborer was hardworking, punctual and loved by all.
The laborer was practically unknown before this incident and right after his death the CEO of the company was writing an article about him on the front page of a newspaper! This obviously wasn’t the first time I read about someone being known after their death but for some reason this one really stuck with me.
‘I just slept over the burning fire,
with fifty crying over me;
this strange feeling I admire,
why people cry its a mystery.
when i was among them, it hardly mattered,
the presence of me out there;
now I’m out of sight their hearts are scattered,
now they suddenly care.
Flesh turning into ashes,
Bones turning to dust;
My face remembered in flashes,
Hatred turning to rust.
For the first time I wanted to fight for my soul,
Even with the flames emphasizing my agony;
The fire devouring me whole,
But their love enlarging my vanity.
Now everyone loves me,
now that I’m not here;
honestly, its a strange world,
shoves you into flames and then sheds tears.’