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Death
Is this death?
I'm consciously aware, yet, half-minded.
I can't fight this oppressive hue, it's so debilitating.
It's been hours... it's been days...
It's been weeks... it's been months...
It's been years... it's been centuries...
It's been… minutes?
I'm trying to run, but I just feel still.
Isn't it ironic that irony exists here too?
As sleep sets in, my world fades to black.
No one here to help, no God here to heal.
This is it. This is my fate.
I'm too many Sundays too late.
Just as I prepare to let go,
I awake to my text message tone.
I walk up to the casket one last time, all alone.
It's over, and I have to leave.
Dad, I hope you rest in peace.
oh I love that!
"It's been hours... it's been days...
It's been weeks... it's been months...
It's been years... it's been centuries...
It's been… minutes?"
that is f*ckin brillant!
also:
"No one here to help, no God here to heal.
This is it. This is my fate.
I'm too many Sundays too late. "
that bit is all about the too many sundays too late bit, sooooo good!
I hope this was just a dream tho . . .
Much Love
Ashley
Thanks :)
& :-X