Alive and well
Every trinket of gold in my helm
and every breath earned
from the sufferings I dealt
Yet, I feel not the way I should
Or the way I need to, to make sure
I don't lose anything more
Or to gain anything more
The only breaths that leave
are owed to those
for who I breathe
those who I owe everything
and I feel sorry
and I apologize to all
to who I could not be what
I needed to be,
for whom, I burned bridges
and never turned back,
let the ashes clog my lungs
and deny me a life I'm not deserving of
I am alive and well,
Every trinket of gold in my helm
and every breath earned
from the sufferings I dealt
from all my bouts with death
until nothing was left
but me
YOU ARE READING
24
PoetryPoetry without a definite meaning or discipline. Just some short flashes of emotions sung as a swan song.
