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.