Welcoming the end…

Waking up in my bed,
Surrounded by blood,
Looked on by family and friends,
All of them weeping.

I look at them,
Try to speak,
My voice but a mere breeze,
Blowing on their moist cheeks.

I never thought they’d care,
Half as much as they do,
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it,
Putting them through such pain.

If they had only,
Shown me as much love,
As they claim now to have lost,
I would be with them now.

They gave me nothing,
Except nightmares,
The occasional hug,
Many painful memories.

Three stand in the corner,
Silent tears on their faces,
They, the ones that helped me,
Made me feel happy.

I was one of them,
Such a close knit group,
I was offered a part in thier lives,
I’ve thrown it all away.

The cause of all this,
Sits next to my limp body,
Holds my cold hand,
And cries near me once more.

Why does he care now,
When he tried so hard,
To ruin my life?
Which he did a good job of.

Then, the others,
Outside the house,
Looks of horror,
On their painted faces.

Sure they hate my kind,
But they cannot beleive,
Someone could do this,
Which ever tribe to which they belong.

The blond that hated me,
Stands over my body,
Apoligises and collapses,
In tears on the floor.

I look at the one I loved,
He moves uneasily out of the room,
And sits on my board,
Curls up in his own thoughts.

He talks to himself,
He thinks it’s his fault,
I whisper into his beautiful ear,
That it wasn’t him.

He feels my presence,
Whispers he loves me,
And that he always will,
He stands and leaves.

Why did he not say that,
When I was alive,
Things could have beens so good,
But it’s too late now.

I walk to the park,
The one I’d ripped on, (<--- Skating term) To say my final goodbye, To one not talked to before the end. She looks where my spirit stands, Smiles, then says with confidence. Goodbye Dar, Remember, The fairies will never forget you. She begins to walk past, Stops next to me, Allows my cold lips, To kiss her cheek. Warming her cheek she leaves, Realising my work here is done, I allow my soul to depart, Headed to where it is needed...

Published
Categorized as poetic

By Darouche

I was a mistake, my life has no moral, my dad writes poetry about 5 years old wanking (may post his stuff depends). My greatest friends are Dave, Rach (evilsecret) and Sarah. I like trees and all things sharp. Oh and I am a human cutting board as someone once said to me....