Path 8: Destroying a Self

It would have been nice to keep

you

around.

Somewhere within the pain there was a sense of home

some place I could always return to

something seemingly solid

somebody I might have been.

The thorns that did rend you

were

connections to the extravagantly tragic reality

They made you smile through

tears

blooming forth from the seemingly infected tear ducts.

If I could lend you a gift

I would say it would be to die.

Death, boxed up with a bow

set up on a forgotten shelf

and left to sit until it rots away all

past existence fermenting into

a past hypothetical.