Below is the poem entitled Out of breath which was written by poet
Matt. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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I'm not the only one who thinks about this I know.
But I always think of when it will be my time to go.
How much longer until I run out of breath?
When will I meet the black cloak of death?
When most people think about this event,
they imagine a time down the road when they're spent.
For some reason, I always feel that my fate is close.
Like within a couple of years or so, I'll be saying adios.
I don't know why I have these thoughts or feel this way.
It feels like the everything is crumbling and there is nothing to say.
I wish I had a better outlook on what I am seeing.
Although sometimes I do feel pointless as a human being.
I just wish things were different and didn't turn out like this.
Looking ahead to my future is like staring into a dark abyss.
Everything I worked hard for and I didn't seem to get or achieve.
Maybe if I'm honest with myself, I am kind of welcoming when I leave.