Wasteful Chatter

How wasteful is a life's pursuit 

That spent in seeking

Love, kinship, fortune, and fame,

That render a soul reeking.

Reeking with ghastly desires

Expectations bred to shatter.

They say you'd be alone without,

To me they do not matter.

Self-love is the most precious love;

Or that of the Creator,

The only kin is that of self,

Fame and fortune are just chatter.

The social race is a grotesque scare,

A mad stampede of the socially ill.

My dignitary backseat at life's play

Saves my soul's goodwill.

This vendetta; against the world,

Is never bound to cease.

I can mend my ways no more,

I do not live to please.

[Composed July 11, 2015 while fighting the demons during pre-dawn, Sehri, hours]

[Vendetta Against The World Collection]