And Then You Die Poems - Poems about And Then You Die

If I should die quite suddenly Don't grieve, my dear. Don't cry for me I've waited, oh, so fervently From bonds of life to be set free This world is not how it should be Today the Lord has heard my plea Don't mourn for me I've been set free Don't stand too long around my grave For death is friend and not a...

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One day we live, love, and die, in a labyrinth of illusions and lies, Each waits, without time to choose among the shadows that creep in, Truth wanders like a lost echo through the crumpled pages of the world, Despair feeds on deep silences, like a bottomless well. One day we give new names to old thoughts, like a...

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A small bug walks just like a thief, It does not know pain, it does not know grief. It does not ask, “Why am I here?” It lives its life without a fear. The bug runs when the light is strong, But it forgets—it moves alone. It does not think of life or death, It only feels the light, the breath. But I...

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Act one had just begun on the day we met how was I to know the die was cast and the stage was set Act two what was I to do when you stole my soul who'd have guessed the part was mine and I would play a leading role Act three now you're with me I put my heart into all I do should...

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In the depths of my silence, where shadows are born and die quietly, An unseen war is hidden, sculpted in scars and memories, With wounds that have never shown, yet burn like a smoldering fire, Fighting with myself, an endless battle between me and me. My strength has dissipated like a dream in the harsh morning light, A demon trapped...

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I'm forever chasing rainbows pretty rainbows in the air they're so high way up in the sky they are but my dreams which all fade and die altho' fortune's hiding I'm dreaming dreams I've looked everywhere building castles scheming schemes tho' born anew their days are few and yet as the daylight's dawning like a sweet butterfly they return in the morning there's one at the end or...

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when people die they become forever that age forever six forever twelve forever twenty-four forever nineteen forever three what if we don’t die? What if we live to be three or four hundred? What happens then?...

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Dreams will fade As dreams renew Rather be dead Then alive be real With age… I see my dreams die Aged… I see new dreams arise With time… never can I lie Timed… am I wise? And I let time carry me… Sweeping minutes into hours away Days and weeks hurry Into months and years without delay No longer can I…? Can I do the things I no...

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We live in the lines that they traced. The winkles of time lost their face to fear. The riddled of words that remain so clouded the thoughts turn to rain, tears. A babbling Brooke is not insane A river that runs is such a shame to hear No color just lost shades of grey A shadow that won't hold its shape...

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Like a cat, I've nine times to die — and love has taken seven. Once, when you said my name like it was a question. Twice, when you answered it with silence. Thrice, when you loved someone else in front of me like I was made of stone instead of soul. I keep returning — from wreckage, from wreck, from wreck again. You don't know how many lives I’ve lost just staying alive next...

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if i die before i awake do not cry as am at heavens gate, looking at you all down below, showing you my love will always flow, if you need me just call my name, believe am here and never in vain, i will be beside you by your side, even tho you think i died, my spirt is close and warm, i...

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I want to die— not in screams, not in blood, but in a quiet room where no one waits for me. I think of suicide like a lullaby I hum alone, a final note to silence the noise in my head that never rests. But I'm scared. I'm afraid of the rope, afraid of the pills, afraid of the fall— not just the pain, but the fact that I...

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I lost my beautiful dog today I lost my dearest friend She took with her a piece of my heart I’ll never feel again I know you’ll say there will come a day when your heart is filled with another but you didn’t know my Chuli girl A dog unlike any other I’ve never cried or felt...

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Lo, do I grasp with my wretched fingers, Onto where my heart it still lingers, Tendrils hold as though a parasite, With it's life causes my blight, Even withered it does not die, For its mother hears its cry, Nurturing back to good health, Yet it is I who have dealth, Suttle thoughts fuel the proliferation, Making death its instrumentation, Rest from it comes with...

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Blasphemy, truly— To treat a poem like lab equipment. Smearing souls on damp napkins, scribbling overwrought sorrows. We are sacred, young lady. Vessles for disciplined sociopaths and occasionally, prophets. Not therapy couches for freshly wrecked teens. Yet here you are— dismantling verses with the rollerball pen from middle school and deliberately gothic tragedies. “I’m figuring it out as I go.” The audacity. But fine, if you’d rather, learn...

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