Death has tiptoed through my mind
Fogging my mind like a dreary fall day
Whether it be upon that rock
Hand in hand, the trees whistling
When I stared you in the eyes
And said "I could die here. Right now"
Or in the darkest of moments
Where I imagine my death beyond a dream
And then it drifts away like sunset
Leaving me still within the emptiness
Day by day, it is one or the other
But somehow I push through it
As I yearn for the final breath of air
Seized by my very own brittle hand
I've painted myself blue, stuck in still life
Walking through the still life of my soul
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
Death has tiptoed through my mind
Fogging my mind like a dreary fall day
Whether it be upon that rock
Hand in hand, the trees whistling
When I stared you in the eyes
And said "I could die here. Right now"
Or in the darkest of moments
Where I imagine my death beyond a dream
And then it drifts away like sunset
Leaving me still within the emptiness
Day by day, it is one or the other
But somehow I push through it
As I yearn for the final breath of air
Seized by my very own brittle hand
I've painted myself blue, stuck in still life
Walking through the still life of my soul
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