If death was a friend...
I'd tell it to stop making me cry.
I'd tell it to stop making the faucet
inside me run and run like a waterfall.
If death were a friend to me,
I'd tell it to stop taking away those that I love.
I'd tell it to find someone else to bother.
If death were a friend,
I'd tell it to stop pulling my heartstrings
making my heart twinge and twist
as if a knife were stabbing me.
I'd tell it to stop bullying me,
I'd beg for it to leave me alone.
But it persists,
looming over me each night
like the nightmares that cling to me like a blanket.
a blanket of despair, of sleepless nights
of sadness that can't be quelled.
The impatience runs and death waits patiently,
waiting as it whispers to me
the chilling words that wake me up:
"I'm not done yet."
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 5:27 PM UTC
If death was a friend...
I'd tell it to stop making me cry.
I'd tell it to stop making the faucet
inside me run and run like a waterfall.
If death were a friend to me,
I'd tell it to stop taking away those that I love.
I'd tell it to find someone else to bother.
If death were a friend,
I'd tell it to stop pulling my heartstrings
making my heart twinge and twist
as if a knife were stabbing me.
I'd tell it to stop bullying me,
I'd beg for it to leave me alone.
But it persists,
looming over me each night
like the nightmares that cling to me like a blanket.
a blanket of despair, of sleepless nights
of sadness that can't be quelled.
The impatience runs and death waits patiently,
waiting as it whispers to me
the chilling words that wake me up:
"I'm not done yet."
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