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Personal Note:

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Poem

I’m thinking of this week,
It’s nearly my hour. 
A process so meek,
How could I cower?
A time spent reflecting,
While idolizing morbidity. 
A hint of madness detecting,
A prosper of hope, in futility. 
Thoughts and feeling,
Change from one person to another. 
I know I need healing,
Yet I can’t help to smother. 
If you took my hand,
What could you vow?
Where would I land,
In another awkward bow?
If I meant anything,
If I meant what you said,
Could you yourself bring,
To look upon me dead?
Was it over so quick, 
Was it over long ago?
Another hour tick,
I’m done with the show. 
The time is near,
A fatal blow I’m sure. 
I’m no longer here,
I’ve found a cure. 

The radio plays our song,
Drowned by a crunch of metal. 
Would it be so wrong,
To drift like the sea holding a petal?
The bridge gives way,
The water rushes to hold me. 
The wind gives sway,
It was meant to be. 
A mind plagued with illness,
The downfall of a heavy soul. 
Finally a stillness,
My bodies taken a toll. 
The clock ticks away,
Striking the seconds from the fall. 
How would you react, in what way,
As you receive that dreaded phone call?
Would it ruin your day, your month, your year?
Would you cry me an ocean or could we bottle your single tear?

Of course this is fantasy,
Of course there’s nothing wrong with me. 
Of course, I’ll make it through so happy and old. 
Of course this is the situation my other being told. 
Of course everything is okay. 
Of course it’s another bright day.

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