The More I Stay, The More I Rot.
Rotting in my life, my skin is rotting. I'll forever wonder what life is plotting. I am sick, i feel disgust in my body. I don't feel the way I need to. Death is the answer. I'm going away, I've found my pain, my problem after years of confusion. I'm free from my sorrow.
Never guessed death would be the answer, never. I felt sick but not enough that i was dead. I killed myself, I'm proud of it. A smile stayed on my face ever since death. I left this world, not by choice but at least I'm free from the feeling called "hurt". Everything is rotting beside me, slowly moving away.
Death is my peace, my life, my freedom. I'm at it's peace. Makes me feel better, look better. Made my sorrow go, death made me the way I've always dreamed to be, the way I needed to be.
I am really glad i am dead.
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Author:
Olgica Ristova (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 8th, 2023 13:03
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: GODisreal
Offline)
Comments1
The old you is dead and gone. While the new you grieves the old but embraced the anew in you. Out with the old in with the new. Love it
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