Jumping at your convulsions,
Finding everything you'd want
and nothing you need.
Collecting myself and falling apart
become interchangeable.
At your weakest, I'm afraid
I wont see you again.
The stoop catches my tears,
and I hear an ambulance
speed through a small town.
Don't you let her go
you slow professionals.
She needs me- but I'm helpless,
and it's only hurting her, help her,
don't comfort me.
Life feels surreal when
you sit and wonder how you'll die.
They help you in, and your eyes open.
I thank the God that I doubt everyday.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
Jumping at your convulsions,
Finding everything you'd want
and nothing you need.
Collecting myself and falling apart
become interchangeable.
At your weakest, I'm afraid
I wont see you again.
The stoop catches my tears,
and I hear an ambulance
speed through a small town.
Don't you let her go
you slow professionals.
She needs me- but I'm helpless,
and it's only hurting her, help her,
don't comfort me.
Life feels surreal when
you sit and wonder how you'll die.
They help you in, and your eyes open.
I thank the God that I doubt everyday.
Request permission to use this poem