The Gate

The end is inevitable
It doesn’t matter our efforts
Within our choices, our variables
We change nothing, despite our hurt
Throughout it all, a gate
The one way to abate our fate

It stands tall
Holding hope between its arches
Judging our grief withal
the people march
But as they pass
They wail and thrash

Not having known
The gate is our fate
Moving towards it causes bemoan
And the approaching date
Seals away our time
Taking a toll on our prime

The sad, the lonely
They have lost all will
They go in knowingly
They are seriously ill
What would make you end it all?
Why take the intentional fall?