Life

Reality spites me and my intentions,
network of secrets hidden behind false impressions,
different experiences,
but the same route taken,
nobody told me the blue prints of Satan,
my brain drank and I spat it all out,
questioning questions that everyone shouts 
their flesh touched but mine: I kept to myself,
why were they so content to lose a friend?
embracing a state of copy and paste,
now all their colours merge into grey,
so humanlike to formalise life,
one plus one is two and that’s all that is right,
when I was a child,
I was alive,
but then I was taught numbers,
and then I died