To “Parachute”

You said, your spine of pride back then
Raged at the sight of the invasion.
Tonight, a parachute becomes your portrait.
Lying atop live, surveying around.

You abandoned the struggle, let it wane.
And forgave yourself, for your stains.
Once, it carried away the filth, leaving you clarity,
But now, it drains your life away.

Yet loneliness is life’s true shape,
You mistook it for some sudden catastrophe.
You defiled the once-only chance of existence,
And repaid it with your life.

If surrender becomes so effortless,
Then, staying alive becomes poverty.