·˚ ༘ ➳〔life is much scarier than death, with or without a scythe〕 ࿐ ࿔:🖇
You don't get to die and be reborn the same.
That's the price: the burden of a new name,
The sight of your old life slipping away,
And not even your words could make it stay.
You'd throw in front of you your transparent hands,
Trying to tie back those foolish loose ends,
Reaching to grab anything you can touch
That you could save under death's watch.
Nothing to remember them by would fall in your hands,
Because oblivion does never obey anyone's commands,
They'd be gone in a blink, your friends, your family...
They'd still be here, but you won't, not really
They'd look at you each day and feel like they missed
Such a big part from your show, you are no longer sun-kissed,
It's dark in your eyes and you finally let it show,
Give them tickets to your doom in the first row.
And that little, childish you they managed to kill,
Somewhere in your head, he holds on still,
Looking horrified at how everything went so wrong,
And his silly life is no longer a bedtime story and a song.
He cries you know? You can hear him at night,
A voice so small the calls the world out saying nothing's right,
But you only clench your jaw and hide him deeper,
Because this right here is life's grim-reaper.
CITEȘTI
Of sweet and sour - poetry book
Poetry...and maybe sometimes words and paper are enough to heal a wounded heart
