Dead End

We are souls clad in similar bodies;
We are branches of the same tree.
Amidst this pile of futile eyeballs that drowned us,
We grew up, wrapped in each other’s arms.


But we were incapable of bearing fruit.
We are of no use to the reaper.
I fear that soon we’ll be uprooted and damned.
Is this what you really want?


However, if we were thoroughly useless,
why are we still here?
Wouldn’t it be easier if the reaper
Had severed our roots a long time ago?


Then again, isn’t our love most selfless of all?
We yield nothing and yet we thrived.
Is this why we haven’t perished yet?
But can our love alone suffice our very existence?

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