It started a few days ago,

An urge to live,

But not to survive.

To take another nap under

The summer sky, or

Diving straight into

The pool of lies.

It started a few days ago,

When the comet raced through

The crimson sky.

When the plague started

Strangling all the humane plights.

It started a few days ago

A wish to gaze at the stars

For one more night.

Or perhaps it was

Just a deception.

A moment of

My humane flaws

A desire to find whatever

Is still beautiful in this

Nonsensical world

But nothing is so.

Never it was.

Your plaster of butter

Cannot transform this

Heap of manure.

Maybe it is just

Nothing but of wasting time,

And a deliberate attempt to

Weave some ugly rhymes.