I'm a one in third chance.
A walking grenade.
The trigger was pulled
As I held the blade.
I walked along a path of broken glass
It wasn't yellow or special just bloody and smelled like ash.
The fire rose higher and my chances slimmed
My brothers were healthy and I could see the end
The genetics failed me and the flames swallows me whole.
The glass was melting and then I suddenly felt cold.
The chances grew bigger until they finally came through clear
An illness a weakness a sad ending was near.
The light from the flames were what I walked into.
The ash and the glass and the path of frozen years.
The fire was gone like the light in my eyes and the air I had taken.
My final moments were gone and wasted.
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I'm really sick.
YOU ARE READING
The Astronomers Last Words (An abundance of poems)
PuisiWhen a notebook isn't enough to hold your thoughts you try tumblr. Then when that fails as well because maintaining a blog is a taxing task and you would rather be reblogging gay love you then decide to make a WattPad story. Everything is mine inclu...
