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If, in my many moments

of trial-

of unending pain-

of all-consuming sorrow-

I pray for death,

am I to be considered a coward?

Have I sinned against God

to want this gift of life to end?



If I pray for death,

and often, I do,

have I given in to this affliction?

Have I given up to the darkness,

the light which once shone for me?



For seeing past these tears

has become too much effort,

when pain is so blinding and so cruel.



Oh, how some days,

I pray for death.

For release from these chains

which hold me tight to this existance.



What is existance,

without hope?

And what is hope,

without existance?



I lie in the in-between

upon a limbo plain,

where only shadows

show me the way.



And I follow them,

mekely, beaten, distraught.

For the shadows have been,

the only constant,

the only sure-thing

I have come to know.



I pray for death-

if only to guide me away

from life,

wicked and torturous

as it is.



Why would I pray for life,

when life has been so hurtful,

and when in death,

I shall have that freedom,

at long last?



Wouldn't I be sadistic,

to pray life to continue,

when life has let me down,

when life has battered me

so well and so completely?



I've been drug along these ragged sidewalks,

scraped, marred and mauled

by the diseased hands of fate.

Left to lie alone, bloody

and battered beyond my own recognition.



Yes...I PRAY FOR DEATH!



For in death

will I find

the peace and rest

I could not find

in life.