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Diary of a dying man

There is a space, between life and death A fine line without silver lining It's filled with despair and feelings of crap There is a rope on my neck So tight I feel it sinking in Somehow I am not dead, well not yet I'm suppose to feel remorse and regret But the only regret I have is not dying sooner I can't yell for help, not while I'm still alive I'll wait till I'm nothing but a floating bag Even so my language is of no sense It's my soul, it is just standing right there and watching tears from a hollow hole in my sockets Well I wish I could talk right now even for 2 seconds I'd tell it I'm happy and I'm glad I'm going to die The rope on my neck, sinking in deeper I can bearly breathe, this weird horrid tone Like a dying suffocating wild hog Through my skin and through the bruises on my neck My body is turning pale I know it's in terrible pain It'll end soon, trust me, it'll soon end I see the flection through the puddle of blood on the floor I look pretty weird like superman in his blue and red costume With kryptonite on his neck my soul why are you just standing there Is it my dry voice and red eyes Or the way my body like a swinging rope Finds a wall after wall bashing like a wrecking ball Is it why you're still here, does this pain fascinate you Find open clouds it's almost 3 seconds I don't feel remorse or regret The only regret I have is not dying sooner.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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