Sublime Death
i feel nothing but death is sublime
solution to this pitiless lost soul.
the time has come for an answer
to these questions of like and death.
Surrounded by beautiful death of winter,
what life is left? its waiting til spring
to be reborn. can i be reborn? could
i have a better life? no more pain,
no more manic and depression
unraveling me slowly, driving,
driving me crazy, i wish for nothing but
a wooden box in which i would fit and
a gravedigger to dig the pit. no family
needed maybe just the crows.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
