Am I alive,
Or just a simple life,
These veins are seeping,
With every beat of this heart,
Tear me apart, and feel this ink leave stains,
Wake up in this hospital bed,
White washed walls, and a constant,
Rainy day in the back of my head,
My hands are empty, I keep grabbing the air,
It feels like I'm tied down,
And I wonder what's keeping me here,
The beeps from that machine, the stutters,
That quick speech and how it slows down,
It seems to say what my mind tries not to think,
As I search for something, and find my palm,
My hand tightening as I try to hold what's not there,
Has this become my home, my heart is here,
Though I seem to forget that it beats, it beeps,
It's just a muscle now, not a messanger of any sort,
I'm beginning to wonder if you read the paper,
And not just headlines, all of the paper,
If you'd remember a name, and who's it was,
If maybe you'd spend a day, or even half of one,
With that name and that person in your head,
I'm beginning to wonder if I can be a part of your life,
Stop these beats, and vacate this room,
Leave that machine with one last sigh, a long sigh,
I hope you read the paper,
More specifically,
The memorials.
