A short story of a dying girl..
Looking out into the life's existence through a hard glass wall, nothing seems so real. The scent, the touch, the feel of the outside world seems like a remote dream I made up to compensate for this lack of warmth. My soul shook in fear of the unstoppable force that slowly creeps into me taking bit by bit if my life. The only thing left for me was the ticking sound of the needles of time moving in my head reminding me that this existence's at an end. The inner ache I felt in thinking about these useless sufferings brought water droplets to my eyes. Hope is all lost onto me.
They say life's greatest mysteries come in the little things. Opening my heavy lids, I witness a change in this cold, plain room. A forgotten scent from a distant memory lingers in the air protruding into my dark mind, capturing my attention, deluding my senses. It was unreal. Brown eyes searching the room for the hint of another existence. White petals on green stem capture my eyes attention. Its structure so delicate and yet there is an aura of life's joy surrounding it. Delicate petals would fall, rigid stems would droop, and its charming beauty lay shriveled.
At the exact moment, the young ones stretch its green arms to the rays of the sun as if to absorb all the warmth and happiness of life. Marking the passing of time, one by one the budding petals move to open its eye slowly. Spreading its innocent white wings revealing its beautiful smile. I could only look as light and darkness in turn pass by the glass wall in a never-ending cycle. I turn to the black daunting figure beside me and I could see the bright warm smile beckoning. Death may just be another journey in this cycle of life. My eyes linger on the smiling daisies and I smiled back. I am ready now. With a deep breath, I close my heavy eyes for the last time.
Poetry by syer
Read 1172 times
Written on 2009-04-20 at 18:07
Tags Life Innocence Death
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What is a life worth living?
There is no way to tell what life has in store for you. One moment, I was looking forward to celebrating my eighteenth birthday and in the next, I am scared to even think of each passing seconds knowing that the figure of death lingers beside me. My desperate eyes probing around the room for a sign, a reason, a purpose to continue this pointless existence. Like a broken clock the needles of my time stops moving and slowly this frail body stops responding. I know that but I couldn't help myself from reaching for something to hold on like a drown cat fighting currents to reach into the surface.Looking out into the life's existence through a hard glass wall, nothing seems so real. The scent, the touch, the feel of the outside world seems like a remote dream I made up to compensate for this lack of warmth. My soul shook in fear of the unstoppable force that slowly creeps into me taking bit by bit if my life. The only thing left for me was the ticking sound of the needles of time moving in my head reminding me that this existence's at an end. The inner ache I felt in thinking about these useless sufferings brought water droplets to my eyes. Hope is all lost onto me.
They say life's greatest mysteries come in the little things. Opening my heavy lids, I witness a change in this cold, plain room. A forgotten scent from a distant memory lingers in the air protruding into my dark mind, capturing my attention, deluding my senses. It was unreal. Brown eyes searching the room for the hint of another existence. White petals on green stem capture my eyes attention. Its structure so delicate and yet there is an aura of life's joy surrounding it. Delicate petals would fall, rigid stems would droop, and its charming beauty lay shriveled.
At the exact moment, the young ones stretch its green arms to the rays of the sun as if to absorb all the warmth and happiness of life. Marking the passing of time, one by one the budding petals move to open its eye slowly. Spreading its innocent white wings revealing its beautiful smile. I could only look as light and darkness in turn pass by the glass wall in a never-ending cycle. I turn to the black daunting figure beside me and I could see the bright warm smile beckoning. Death may just be another journey in this cycle of life. My eyes linger on the smiling daisies and I smiled back. I am ready now. With a deep breath, I close my heavy eyes for the last time.
Poetry by syer
Read 1172 times
Written on 2009-04-20 at 18:07
Tags Life Innocence Death
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
