Milestones are monuments; monuments are celebrations of an events repetition

Eschewed; not all milestones represent celebration

When does joyous marking of an events continued endurance turn as the milk soured, a milestone in the direction of macabre declaration of unnatural survival

The brightened hue of the room you’ve visited so many a time, recognised in the pearly white smiles of well wishers

Faded white and peeling paint, the recycled tableware lightly stained a teal shade of sour

Pearly white fades to eerie yellow, eyes so bright become sunken hollows of well-wishing mourners

The next monument marred with a vengeful state of spiteful fervour, a quietly screaming insult at what forces have become the hated enemy

Why continue?

Is it the hope that the next year reaps all the returns conspicuously lacking in past endeavours?

Is it the twisted smile of knowing life has been denied a stone marker, to fell you six foot under?

Each year the pain holds less worth, whilst the desire to challenge that hated enemy corrupts till there is no more than a crippled figure


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