I want to breath in the dirt
And consume the flowers
Knowing this minute will be my last
My breaths get shorter
As I lay there looking at the sky
My hands feel weak
My body feels heavy
My arm falls to my side
The pill bottle rolls out of my hand
Empty just like my body
My vision fades
Memories play
Like a moving picture of my life
Slow yet fast
Knowing this time will be my last
One last breath before it stops
And the last Memory I see is a good one
That last Memory makes me want to stay
But Knowing this time
Will be my last.
YOU ARE READING
colour.
Non-FictionThe secrets of dark poetry, the dark side of the truth writen in beauty.
