Caves, Cockroaches, and Che

   Death is a profund thought process You not breathing anymore veins bursting as if land mines
 People crying for you who never cared for you Yet you lay there with peace in your heart and smile on your face
Not carrying the burdens of this mortal and materialistic world
That only cares for material gains and not feelings
People selling each other in the  marriage system
 As if it was a barter exchange in Economics
 Yet let life is nothing but a long lasting inflation
 You feel like an Indentured Labour all the time Carrying Bricks on your shoulder and heart
Yet besmear that fake laugh all around Telling people you are alright while you are all chapped inside
 To be like a Haunted Empty Mansion Where you can hear your tears,Lonliness and breathing
While you deliver monologues to silent walls Just to get your heart pierced like a bullet but you don't bleed or die
But all you could be  is dead and barren inside its a strange feeling isn't it.
 Living like a suicide bomber who could go any moment because of the alienation
To drink a molotove cocktail like Ernesto Che Guevara
To survive a nuclear bombing as if mere cockroaches
Wondering am i still out of the Allergory of the caves
 Or am i still admiring my own shadow like Narcissus and probably die doing it Am I the master of my cage,
Or a prisoner of free will’s mirage? -