When the pain ceases and the memories fade,
When the thoughts scatter and the peace settles,
When my ashes are one with the wind.
Then maybe I'll be truly there.
When my body nourishes the grass in the cemetery,
When my bones are all that's left in the ground.
When my teeth are bared in an eternal grotesque smile
And my eyes are forever hollowed in sorrow.
Maybe then I'll not be gone
When my legs are separated at the knees,
When the tendons holding them become food for the ants,
The muscles turn to black goo for the roses on top.
The eyes no longer shed tears from the pain,
Then maybe my race will be over.
When my body goes numb and dry,
When the water waters the soil around me,
The tear glads rot and dry to granules for the roots
When the downturned cheeks can no longer sag,
Then maybe the pain will be gone.
Do not weep for my death, I'll be at rest
Do not rush to tell stories of my life, it was a lie
Do not talk of my smile, it was forced.
Do not sing of my dreams, they were just but empty.
Nor of my goals, they were never to be.
For when I'm dead, my body will rest.
For when I'm gone, one final journey, then I'll be happy.
I'll not be running from, or to anything.
I will be done, I will be free, I will be happy at last.
YOU ARE READING
Kill The Flame
PoetryShort poems relating to some common life experiences and situations. For updates, whenever I feel the inspiration to write something. Might be after a day, a week...who knows
