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When death finds you,
May it find you alive.
Not hollow, or dead inside,
Burnt to ash all sad and blue.

"If it does, then I wouldn't want to die."
I was born dead, not knowing how to live.
Maybe I shall learn how not to cry,
appreciate life, learn to forgive.

Maybe sometimes it's okay,
so death can feel like a welcomed guest too,
We see it as the doorway to doomsday,
But perchance we grew with that darkened hue?

We aren't living, just merely existing,
Stagnating even like trees,
Stuck to the roots we grew from.
Things we enjoyed, now just drifting
away from. And I beg with "Please,"
"Oh, how I wish I weren't so glum."

People may die thrice in their lives,
Once literally, once in memory.
once in soul, living, but not alive.
Okay so, I'm actually REALLY proud of this one. Immediately when I wrote it I was like "wait *** I have to upload this!" I love the last stanza the most because it feels like the poem is "slowly dying" (nearing it's end) as well. I don't know I just found it really creative lol😭
why do you attempt to save me,
when i have nothing else better to do than cry
so please, for the love of everything
let me die

all of these cold, heavy feelings
they're too much to bear, too much to hide
please, don't ask about them
just let me die

i loved every little name you gave me
everything you did, yet it was all a lie
don't try to comfort me now
let me rest, let me die

i did everything i could to keep you
everything i could to help myself stay alive
it's too much for me now, it's too much pain
with a goodbye, i beg for you to let me die.
i want to rest in suicide's arms.
Jasper 1h
Flame
teardrops a
birthday candle,
stuck in a cupcake's blue
frosting. Mom just finished the
happy birthday oration—happy
birthday to you, dear Timmy—
It's time for him to blow out
the candle. He's nine.

His Mother:
Time to blow out the candle, Timmy!


Tim blows it out.


She asks what he wished for.


He says he doesn't wanna jinx it

Patting his leg, she says:
Good idea, honey. Enjoy your cupcake.


No I'm okay, your mama doesn't get hungry easily baby.


Timmy wishes to live.
I had an idea about play-ish poems. Kinda prose-poems, I guess. Decided I should start experimenting with that. Thoughts? Also I made the first stanza in the shape of a teardrop, not sure how noticeable that is.
The remains of weary waifs forlorn,
Lay scattered across daisy meadows.
Burnished bones with garments torn,
Intertwined with sunlit billows.

Through the skulls a zephyr whistles,
Quivering the efflorescent verdancy,
Swaying every blossomed bristle,
As the early sun gleamed fervently.

Light reflects upon those perished,
Illuminating bygone, derelict graves.
Neither ****** nor at all cherished,
They repose in obscure haze.

Resting in a vanished empyrean,
Clouded and embraced by flora,
Blooming different shades of green,
Around the skulls it casts an aura.

Caressed by gleams of moonlit nights,
Brushed by sunrise upon morning.
Shone upon by hallowed lights,
In death the bones recline aborning.

So shunned, forsaken upon birth,
Adopted warmly by their Death.
With him they putrefy in mirth,
Sipping the ethereal waters of Lethe.
Death owns the mossed headstones
orphaned by time and muted stories
no longer spoken in mortal’s rockery.

Fallen epitaphs .... names surrender
to nature’s bloom and winter frost,
broken granite bouquets tied with wild roses.

Where pain no longer visits, peace speaks
poetry through meadowlark and aspen sigh,
souls long gone now rest as poems cradled
in the arms of Mother Earth.
Jasper 7h
Peace
On the operating table.
I wasn’t very faithful,
But ever since Death’s call—
I fear. for my life.
   God save us all.

Adieu, adieu, adieu.
A tremor hits the old room,
Antiques and glasses crash,
Dust folds and my heart.
   It's all gone.
Just experimenting.
She whispers in my ear
Sultry and seductive
Secrets of her siren song
Pulsating through my veins
She's saying that she loves me as she licks away my tears
Aren't I so lucky

Her embrace, a strong sensation,
A shiver down my spine.
Her voice a revelation,
A peace so divine.

I rest within her lap,
Her hands cold to the touch,
Yet comforting to this weary soul.
What joy! For the love of my life,
Is taking me from,
Pain, heartbreak, sorrow, and strife.
As she strokes my head with her cold hands,
I fade to slumber in faraway lands.
Was inspired to write this when I reflected on my life, the suffering I've gone through,  missed relationships,  watching my mother die and losing hope. Feeling rejected by society I thought I could find an escape through deaths warm embrace. Although, thank God I didn't listen to those voices.
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Death, a delectable delight

Death, a delicate dance in the night

Veiled in velvet, whispering low

A kiss of frost, a gentle blow

Petals fall from roses red

As silver hands caress the dead
Some hours ago, I almost died
I was thinking in moments while on the motorbike
There was not much to do but scream Jesus and hope
while hoping for the best in a worst situation
I lay on the tarmac after already being hit
still in shock, I stood up
My family was under the bus, the tyres almost at her legs
There was not much to do but be silent and hope
The bus stopped just in time
I was glad,
I did not know what to do next
People from the bus came to my aid, told me to sit
For some reason, I did not want to obey but i did
As I continued my journey
could not stop thinking that I almost died.
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