The Gentle Sounds Of The Grave

*

Plastered together with duct tape and hope

dazed by bright lights and death

Plastered to keep me from feeling the rope

as I dangle and wiggle my legs

Too much, too little, too late to turn back

as I step on the stool of undoing

Counting the moments and patience I lack

as I'm believing the shit I am spewing

Second thoughts and second chances

the second time I've tried to let go

Confusing the steps to all of the dances

allowing imperfection to show

No turning back, the last step is a doozy

I hang like the sheets on the line

The room is spinning and I'm feeling woozy

I fear I've succeeded this time

*

Authors Note:

I have had a couple friends make the decision to end their lives this past month. Words could no longer reach their pain. This poem is in honor of the struggle to survive and the unbearable lie death whispers as you give in to a false peace. Please check on your loved ones. Life is hard, love is stronger.