Thoughts of Dying

I gaze back on that night, almost my last,
and dream, what if I had died,
what would it have meant to you?
Visions of teary faces almost move me,
But I know that isn't the right ending for
someone like me. Frowns of anger nearly seem true;
maybe it would've been,
if hate hadn't got there first,
why should you feel hate alone?
All I did was never walk out of my door again.
Would you appreciate it if I continued my life a lie?
I know I don't.
I'm a burden, I always was.
Why didn't you tell me sooner?
I needed to talk but you never
took me seriously, no wonder I
forever felt attention seeking,
When all I sought was my smile
behind those curtained tears.
Did I ever change, did I ever cry, and did I ever live?
No, but one,
I cried.
But you wouldn't have known that
if I'd never opened my door.
What would you think of me if I died?




Poetry by deathsdestiny
Read 793 times
Written on 2006-11-12 at 13:00

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You have captured to essence of what is remembered or not when we die. It is how we are remembered that is important, not what we do, but how we spend our time fighting for survival in it not so very warm world we are thrown into at birth. A couple of typos in there, but I'm not counting, thanks for sharing, Tai
2006-11-12