The Dead girl living
oft' says death is wasted
on the dying.
Perhaps it's the way she chokes
on the suicide notes she can't
bother writing
or
maybe it's the way that air
becomes stone in her lungs.
The Live girl dying
oft' says life is wasted
on the living.
Perhaps it's the way her body
fights itself as she sings
or
maybe it's the way
the dying find grace in an
answered prayer.
The Dead girl living
stores her pain in a piggy
bank heart,
hoping that someday it will
count for something.
She took her loneliness and
stashed it in between her
ribs,
hoping god would notice
and grant her the end she is
craving.
The Live girl dying
answered her call to arms with
a smile,
saying she knew how to float
or fly through these dark days.
Saying she knew
god would notice
and grant her the beginning she is
craving.
- Author: Shadowbox15 ( Offline)
- Published: June 1st, 2018 19:11
- Category: Sad
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: SilverXball
Comments1
I think this is a wonderful write!
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