Perhaps the events of my death.
Will set my heart free from it's cage.
Babies breath will spread over my grave.
Vines wrap my headstone.
Moss cover my name.
And I will look at my bed.
Alone with the moon.
And I won't regret my passing.
I won't carry that burden anymore.
With the absence of life.
My death will be a chance.
To watch the sun rise and set.
Observe the bees visit.
And for once just be.
In my solitude.
I could finally write my book.
The ghost of animals will come to listen.
And when the moon visits one night.
I will pour my soul out.
Ask it to take me with it.
But like the ghost,
The bees,
My life.
It will pass.
YOU ARE READING
Reflections (Chapter two)
PoetryFollow my rise and Experience my redemption, as I fight back against all that haunts me. There will be poems dedicated to others and how they help me in my rise, and there will be standalones where I forgive those who put me in the pit to begin with.
