And
I know
Despite my grief
My time is not yet up
And so I turn from the many eyes
And return to a body
With aching joins
and crying eyes

The only indication that I was ever even alive

A stain of black blood

Left abandoned

on the forest floor

Is it wrong
to go through
day by day
and barely speak a word?

.
.
.
Everyone else is just
so loud.
I can't be heard anyway

I've learned
that I
almost like
being ignored.

Most people leave me alone.
Maybe I like it better this way.

Or did I just get good
at ignoring my loneliness?

It's almost time
Soon, I'll cross the line
And become an adult.
I'll finally be independent.
.
.
.
It should feel freeing.
I feel terrified.
I already have plans.
It shouldn't be so scary.
But,
I can't help to think,
That this is cruel.

I've already spent
Most of my childhood
being "independent".
It should be time to collect my dues
and finally be able to
really
truly
depend on someone else

To lay in immense pain
Soul shattered like broken glass
Spirit in tatters
Knowing only of Despair
and Pain
and Love
Stuck in an endless agony
Waiting for the Earth
to welcome me back into her arms
and my rotting carcass to be absorbed into her
and the last piece of what I once was, forever lost
Saved by the circle of life