I think about death all the time.
Death feels about right.
When I can no longer feel the light.
What’s the point to stay?
The sun is what made my day.
I hold on to all my disdain.
Pray it washes with the rain.
Or for some kind of deliverance from the pain.
Sitting by the window pane.
Wonder why I ever came.
I love the air just not so much today.
Not when I’m surrounded by the crisp wind but I still suffocate.
Who left me so sedate?
Who be so vague to bring me to create?
I am no muse.
Though I seem a object for abuse.
Tell me again, what is there to lose?
My mind, thought by thought, a millisecond at a time.
What did I ever find?
To think I could get through life.
Why am I too stubborn to die?
When every one is aiming for my life.
Next time I shouldn’t think twice?
Habits are hard to kick and next time passes me by.
Another point to prove I’m living a lie.
Not even in my mind can I get it right.
Who turned off the light?
© Zianna Libardo Valexia Valtero, 2016