indra

with thousand sensors i am hugging earth
all my muscles are straining
i must quit
it is unbearable pain on my muscles
unbearable activity of my brain
devising algorithms to extend my tenure some how

encircled by future
i have no future
in my world

or

any other world

what a failure for one who set out as an rebel
the part is clear
it is happening
i must die since I have no future

the symptoms of death are:
bad taste
bad health
bad look
bad memory
bad intellect
bad wealth

no future - i can't foresee-ably extended beyond today
but i looking for a come back tomorrow with the help of almighty's backing
but i have no reason why an exception shall be made for me
when my lot is already decided
I have to face the burial
as is