I think I died the other night

Nothing out of the ordinary,
just another day full
of the same old ****

It's a full time job,
ya know,
hating yourself*,

I should get paid
for my magnificent talent
of self-sabotage

Never a dull moment
in a world filled
with Seattle gray rainbows

sarcasm implied

I fell asleep rather quickly
the night it happened
Or the night
I think it happened

I had the same old nightmares,
I woke up the same too,
cold but sweating,
out of breath and panting

Same old ****

I walked out to the porch
to continue my long walk
to lung cancer,

lit a cigarette
and wiped the sleep
from my eyes

Low and behold,
the sky wasn't gray,
it was a beautiful something,

I could only describe it as
such, I mean ****,
I have nothing to compare it to

The lake was reflecting the sun
in such a way
that I felt as though

butterflies were clawing
at my insides

These were no normal
butterflies though,
they had to have
been on MDMA or something

Each flap of a wing
sent chills radiating
throughout my body,
throughout my very soul

I woke that morning,
and life was beautiful

I must've died that night
because my first thought
of the day didn't consist
of an inward hate

Someone punch me
in the ******* face
so I know this is real

Please?