Today,
My life is a metaphor for death.
Eyes open but unmoving because the dagger stabbed into my soul, took away the dreams playing in a loop on my retina.
Clothes unclean and stinking rancid like that of a blood bathed dead body.
My heart does not beat anymore.
Which is to say, the passion in the rhythm of the beats in the drum of my chest is gone.
I am colder than a frost bite,
It's probably why they had to amputate my soul.
My kunckels are whiter than that of a dead body.
It's from the strain of holding on.
Today, my life is a metaphor for death,
I was thinking maybe I should too just let go.
