Maybe I’m already dead
And hell is real after all
For there is no calm nor sleep in the night
Nor angels that sing when I fall
If this is life ever after
I’d prefer that death be the end
Without the light that shines in the darkness
I can’t be the willow that bends
So maybe I’m already dead
And hell is real after all
And some other poet is writing this poem
While seeing my face in the wall
If life has to end with our suffering
And our poetry lingers unsaid
Perhaps on this earth there is hell after all
Or maybe…
I’m already dead
Michael33
A very intense and emotion poem, Michael.
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I’ve been thinking of you every day.
I know there are no words I can say
To make your troubles go away
Or keep the meds and doctors at bay.
So, I’ll write this silly poem instead
To put the thought inside your head
That someone cares about you today.
(This poem is horrible…What can I say?
It’s a poor attempt at art, but, hey,
I was only hoping to elicit a grin,
And I promise I won’t do it again.)
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