I had a dream that I shot myself in the head
I collapsed in the driveway
And stared straight ahead
With tangible astonishment
Or palpable dread
Is this what it’s like to be dead?
I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead
Why am I still thinking? I’m dead.

I imagined everyone before me who’s died
And questioned if their brains
Also raced beyond the grave
If being buried dead was no different
Than being buried alive
But before I made up my mind
I awoke in a hospital bed
Breathing and thinking -- not at all dead

I reached up and touched the hole in my head
Rethinking the seconds I thought I had died
I cried, I cried, I cried
“Why did this happen to me?” I cried.
Not because of my actions
But because I had survived.