Its nothing isn't it?
When at last you hover above,
Your lifeless body in that coffin,
Watching the people around you cry.

It's weird isn't it?
That your face is somehow not yours anymore,
But yet its somehow you,
And you wonder how that face ever belonged?

It's even more strange isn't it?
To watch people mourn for you,
When you feel you are the one who should mourn for them,
Because you see it, the path and have angels and saints...

To escort you to that new chapter of being...

And there I was,
Suffocating under a pile of rubble,
Breathing painfully,
The dust, pain and suffering all a muddle.

And I saw people passing,
Some walking, some laughing, some running,
But there were others,
Lame, crawling, broken.


But everyone passed,
Some looking directly at me,
Reaching out voiceless,
But they never saw.

And there came a point where,
Pain couldn't be distinguished,
With the hurt of being ignored,
And my outreaching hand went limp.

Night and day,
Day and night,
Dust, rubble, all becomes grey,
Nothing seems to worth the fight.

But fight I needed to,
Because all the suffocating,
All the hurt and pain,
Didn't **** me, how much I prayed to die.

And plank by plank,
Stone by bitter stone,
Rock by crushing rock,
I rummaged through.

With my broken body,
My severed limbs,
My aching heart,
and my shattered soul.

I stood up,
My silhouette against the scorching sun,
Among the ignorant passing by,
Its a new day.

And I realize,
Hundreds of thousands are under rubble,
Some even more than I have been in,
Some barely making it.

Maybe I can make a difference....