#death #gone #short poem

Man Set Prometheus on Fire

Man set Prometheus on fire,

And they howled madly at the sight.

His flesh burned off his bones;

The image gave man great delight.

 
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Final

Folder: 
darkness
 
The edge draws near
For the man who has no fear
Sacrificed years of giving
Upon this journey
Of living an ending
Only to struggle for air 
As the last cards are drawn
We realize the dealers won
Aces are all gone...
Author's Notes/Comments: 

To my father in-law.

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Depression

Depression

The past few months, of being all alone,

Have gotten me so lost, so sad, and exposed.

I am exposed to the sadness, I dwell upon myself,

But the worst of it all is my dreadful mental health.

I have become unstable, I’m melting to the bone,

And with no one here, I’m left without a home.

The emptiness inside shatters me, weighing on my shoulders,

And as each day passes I feel my heart become colder.

I have reached a point in my life, thinking nothing of myself,

I see myself as an empty box, just sitting on the shelf.

I feel like that old guitar in the corner, blinded by the dust,

Screaming and begging for someone to wash away the rust.

I want to wash away the horror, from the lies that I once told,

I want to wash away the regrets that will haunt me when I’m old.

I want to feel free; I no longer want to be left alone,

But now I have decided, I’m going to postpone.

I feel there is no more time for me; I have reached my bitter end,

Now I shall leave this place, on god I will depend.

If he feels it is right for me, I will be sent away to heaven,

And I will be relieved from this never ending struggle with depression.

 

 

Bone Pickers

Bone Pickers

Rummaging through the closets of the dead

Prying memories off the walls of ghost

Ransacking through drawers like vultures

Stealing what was from those who are no more

Taking last impressions of lost times of others

Picking clean the bones of memories until all that is left

Is the skeleton of what was left behind

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this after going to an Estate Sale

YOU

You were here
But now your not
What was it like
To feel forgot
How did you feel
When your eyes wouldn't open
Sunk down below
You are now the unspoken

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was written when I was thinking of my mothers death, but it has a twist to it because she is thought of and not forgotten.

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