I filled my pockets up with stones, and walked away from the valley of the shadow of death.
Turns out it was a swamp instead, and I sank so fast I couldn't catch my breath.
I laughed a little gurgling sound as I disappeared into the mire, the irony was not lost on me
that this would be how I expired.
I had come here wondering where to go, to watch the sun sink like lost hope.
My heart skipped a beat at it's beauty, and I wondered if all things could become clean
once more, if only given the right amount of effort and soap.
My thoughts so cloudy and lazy, a feline memory in my head, napping quietly and yawning
some words I might have said.
I softly sang a threnody with no one around to hear, and wondered if the somber song would make the
ghosts of my past appear.
And if they did what would I tell them?
What lyric would it be?
To explain to them that I would take their place, to let the world see through me.
My solid skin and muscle tissue gave me no escape from death, they felt sturdy reminders at best.
As well as the breath stale in my lungs or the heart beating behind my breast.
I had contemplated a life without the first or latter, of ending something so tedious that I felt it
didn't matter.
That six feet below or six feet above, my body was all but my own, and in the end only I could decide,
for we all die alone.
But I found as I walked, picking stones white and round, that my heart felt less heavy the closer
I was to the ground.
And those ghosts I had mentioned filled me with a sound much like rain, cleaning my soul.
And for the first time in a long time I felt control, that I could decide to live just as much as to die.
I had come here with the sun in my eyes, and left with it somewhere deeper, causing a chain reaction inside
me, too warm for the reaper.
But I had filled my pockets full with stones and forgot how well stones sink, so now here I lay laughing,
strangely all that I can think, is that God finally shares my sense of humor,
strangely all I can do is laugh.
Strangely all I can think is how we all have a single moment, and a thousand paths to reach it.
Somewhere up above I know the sun has finally set, and though my body is growing cold, my heart won't
forget that for a moment it held sunlight, if only for awhile, and strangely now in these brief
moments, I can only smile.
I laughed a little gurgling sound as I disappeared into the mire, the irony was not lost on me
that this would be how I expired.
I had come here wondering where to go, to watch the sun sink like lost hope.
My heart skipped a beat at it's beauty, and I wondered if all things could become clean
once more, if only given the right amount of effort and soap.
My thoughts so cloudy and lazy, a feline memory in my head, napping quietly and yawning
some words I might have said.
I softly sang a threnody with no one around to hear, and wondered if the somber song would make the
ghosts of my past appear.
And if they did what would I tell them?
What lyric would it be?
To explain to them that I would take their place, to let the world see through me.
My solid skin and muscle tissue gave me no escape from death, they felt sturdy reminders at best.
As well as the breath stale in my lungs or the heart beating behind my breast.
I had contemplated a life without the first or latter, of ending something so tedious that I felt it
didn't matter.
That six feet below or six feet above, my body was all but my own, and in the end only I could decide,
for we all die alone.
But I found as I walked, picking stones white and round, that my heart felt less heavy the closer
I was to the ground.
And those ghosts I had mentioned filled me with a sound much like rain, cleaning my soul.
And for the first time in a long time I felt control, that I could decide to live just as much as to die.
I had come here with the sun in my eyes, and left with it somewhere deeper, causing a chain reaction inside
me, too warm for the reaper.
But I had filled my pockets full with stones and forgot how well stones sink, so now here I lay laughing,
strangely all that I can think, is that God finally shares my sense of humor,
strangely all I can do is laugh.
Strangely all I can think is how we all have a single moment, and a thousand paths to reach it.
Somewhere up above I know the sun has finally set, and though my body is growing cold, my heart won't
forget that for a moment it held sunlight, if only for awhile, and strangely now in these brief
moments, I can only smile.
