Poetry of Death

A Poem That Never Ends. By M.E.

Never should have thought things were fine,
she is stepping on a thin line.
For just when life is happiness,
it releases its rains of sadness;
When she feels joyful,
her demons will make her mournful.
For when she is happy, her monsters sense it
and they are here to destroy it.

To her knees she has fallen,
for all the time she had was stolen,
it was never hers.
She just thought it was.
Never would she have started everything
if she knew there would be blood.
Her blood, dripping from every inch,
it took so much more than just a pinch.
Don't ever underestimate fate.
Please, don't hate.
Already, it is too late.
And it is not like she can change it.

She cannot go down this road again,
so she will close her eyes and count to ten,
but she will wait for them again this time,
until the funeral bells give another chime.
If it is before the day she dies,
it will be another where she cries.
Yet she will never give up on them,
but maybe she should rip their friendship
out from the stem.
There is no way she will betray herself,
even after she has no health,
she will endure it all,
the end she will stall.
Every laugh, every cruel word,
maybe they do not mean that.
She is being delusional,
but she cannot believe that.

They do not care for her anymore.
not now, not evermore.
Right down to the core,
she knows, but she will still adore
every drop of light that comes to occur
and breaks her shields that protect her,
but she lives on it.
Again, her faint light is lit.
Everytime they come, it hurts,
but she still begs for more,
for she will have nothing to live for without them.
They are her only gem.

And this is her poem that never ends.

When ones who leave come back,
she feels she does not lack.
Even if it is only one step closer,
it feels a million times better,
but she cannot let them in her heart.
Even if it is a new start,
she has to keep her guards up against them because
she cannot bear for their knives to push in further.
"Please, understand," she wishes to say,
"I cannot die because of you again!"
So she does her best to keep them away,
but she knows it will never work.

Sometimes she gives a message,
and she waits and waits for
just one reply,
but there never is one.
When the ones who are far come see her,
she is overjoyed.
Her heart pounds and her eyes almost water,
but then she finds out they're just here
to find out what she has achieved.
Pressured, she keeps it secret,
and it makes everything a million times worse.
She cannot fix it now,
the number can't seem to leave her lips.
to make her tell, they've taken
her heart and soul hostage,

She falls from the stage.
The high platform,
the expectations set for her.
She cannot live up in the sky.
She would rather die.
She does not know why she cannot just say it,
it is not only because of the stress.

She only knows coldness keeps surrounding,
and she might die from takotsubo cardiomyopathy.
Nothing makes sense anymore,
there is not a single open door.

And this is her poem that never ends.

If only there was someone who understands,
why does no one know what she covers with her hands?
How do they not see who she is inside?
To them, has she already died?
They can't see into her shattered heart,
they don't see that piece of "art"
that was drawn with darkness and broken glass.

If only there was someone who saw her real feelings,
then she would not have no safe dwelling.
Why do they not know what she feels?
With these, why must she deal?
If only there was someone who knew her from outside to inside,
there would not be all those nights she cried.
Why is it everything how it is?
Why is it everything like this?