An Email's inbox lies empty as I weep,
sorrow's grasp consumes me without mercy.
I pray to the gods of both men and turtles,
and lay here chest and knees without direction.
I am left for dead in this cruel and unforgiving reality.
Am I rock or am I man?
I am both,
though my shell is hollow.
Infected with the sliver of hope and forgotten.
The great valve turns and circulates the the thoughts inside my head,
I edge closer to the glass.
Pills nor adrenaline can ease my dying drum.
The wind is brisk against my cheeks.
I look down,
this is for the best.
My veins grow cold and ghostly as I look,
Uncontrollably I shake.
Without hesitation,
I whispered my final words while tears ran down my cheeks,
with a smile on my face I looked up into the eyes of a god and said..
My friends call me Coach
