This must be what it feels like to die,
That is my all encompassing thought,
As I sit here in the ice cold rain,
My emotions are array,
My mind has no empty slots,
Yet I feel nothing, not even pain,
I'm fading into a darkness,
That I can tell wants badly to scare me,
But again nothing, I feel nothing at all,
It's not his fault,
I'm sure he's playing his part,
But what I've experienced just makes him look small,
He can't threaten my freedom,
Because I'm enslaved already,
And what's the threat of death,
To a dying man,
Other than obvious, it's nothing,
And there's that word again,
Nothing, I feel nothing,
I think that's what will kill me,
Having to learn to feel things all over again.
YOU ARE READING
End of The Road- Poetry By Bruce
PoesiaEnd of The Road follows a poetic journey through the pain of heartbreak, the path to recovery, and the emotions present from atop the summit of the mountain of healing. With the added bonus of some extra emotions and thoughts captured during the jou...
