Is it hidden in the stars
The day my brain explodes into a thousand parts
Scattering my consciousness into space
As its never eternal resting place
Or will it be sent down to hell
Ring the horrors that pastors would tell
Of a death of permanent suffering and shame
Where the only comfort is reminiscing of what life became
Time thinking could be time spent living
Every word is a hand on life's clock, ticking
People limp through tragedy without making life a story
Death is only for heroes with all the glory
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Author:
Ratigan (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 25th, 2022 20:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Over the years I've constantly pondered about death, and they always led me back to the same conclusion. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to identify the meaning of life, and instead give it meaning, or something I'm writing this shit at 9:47 PM don't expect much.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments1
Indeed, to live it is so much better than to think it or imagine it. Thanks for sharing and welcome to MPS!
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