A cold October morning,
Treated just like the rest,
The boy awoke nauseous,
With a pain in his chest.
A longing for something,
Far out of his reach,
He settled for darkness,
Brushed red in between.
The pain became pale,
followed next by his skin,
Respiring so slowly,
The lights going dim.
Adrift into nothing,
What feels like a dream,
Is death coming slowly,
A dying brain's final feed.
"Is this what it feels like to be dead, I think I like this feeling"
Awoken abruptly,
Surrounded by fear,
Who are all these people,
and how'd he get here.
Looking up from his back,
A tear falls from her eye,
"Relieved" does her no justice,
For not having to say...
Goodbye..
Wrote this a while ago .. Thought it was cool .. Saving it here .. Auto-biographical poem, if anyone was wondering..
