Luminous [A poetry collection] ~ Canvas of Words

~ w i t h e r ~ [requested]

This poem was requested by Spiritsx.

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Trigger warning
This poem treats the subject of Thanatophobia (fear of death).
If you don't feel comfortable with this kind of content, please do not read.

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Don't.

Just don't.

Don't think about it now.

Too late.

There goes my sanity,
my clarity,
all that positivity.

Damn it,
took me so long to reach
and now,
I can feel it slip from my grasp.

An explosion goes off,
a poisonous gas
wants to kill what I've brought to life,

those pretty flowers,
tiny, but pretty,

now withered,
dry,
ripped out of the dirt I planted them in.

Dead.

The flowers are dead.

And so is everybody around me.

Wait, what?

No, that's not true.

They're alive, they're fine,
my friends, my family,
they're all doing well.

And what about me?

Am I still alive?

I checked, I'm breathing.
Good.

Good?
My mind is dead, though.

Dead because of the poisoned flowers,
killed by the thoughts as dark as the night.

But it had died a long time ago, already.
It doesn't matter anymore.

What matters is that I'm alive.

My family is.
My friends are.

Am I alive?

I checked again, my heart is beating.
Too fast, but it's beating.
Good.

Oh well,
now that everything's crumbling
like a piece of paper once again,
I might as well just take it and chuck it,
knowing I'll never see it again.

No.

This ain't a solution for me.

I'll take the paper,
and smooth it out,
take the flowers,
and water them,

'cause everything that could await me,
once I reach my darkest end,
it must be worse than this,

so I don't want things to end.

Not me,
not my friends,
not my family.

That's it.

Don't even try to convince me different,

I'll keep the flowers,
keep them alive,
until the gas attacks my heart, and not only my mind.

I just wonder,
how long will it take
for me to make them grow again?

I need to push the thoughts away,
the brutal thoughts,
the ugly ones,
push and lock them away.

Hopefully,
this time,
it'll take a few years
until they release the gas again.

The gas that fills
and fills my mind,
determining my nightmares.

But I won't.

I won't,

won't think about it now.

Just please,
I don't ask many favors,

only let me be breathing.