The Illusion Of Reality Poem by Derrick Andrews

My ancestors were not of this earth.
I descended from a dying breed,
One of which there are no successors,
No pure bloods.
There is no salvation for my kind,
Only withering hope remains among the ashes of what we once were.
Try as I might to rebuild our world,
I can do nothing but watch as it crumbles,
Nothing but count the casualties as my own life fades from me.
How I long for an end.
An end to this feeble existence ushered on by the illusion of reality.
I wish to break the chains of 'life' restricting me from becoming free yet again.
But they, they will not give.
Their power is greater than my own,
For they are many, and I am one.
Oh, how I long to gain strength enough to rip these chains from my wrists.
To gain the freedom I've searched for all along.
Oh, how I long for death.


Alas, I can do nothing but stay.
Stay and wait for the agonizing silence,
Of which no living man could ever experience.
Or endure, no matter his strength.
The inevitable peace every mortal is forced to know.
But if my end should come as such,
Brought about by no other means than unrelenting sorrow and pain,
I would gladly embrace it, were you by my side.
I would break the chains myself if they held me from you.
I would sacrifice the very body I sought to free to remain by your side.
For death, death is a small price to pay,
For your eternal love.