my last daysA Poem by sabianlevasseurthis poem does not rhyme I have never felt death before but i imagine he is cold and blissful slowly sucking the very bit of life i have left. Things are going bad at home Dad got laid off from his job, Mom just used her last food stamp. So i have found myslef sitting upon my bad sitting, staring, waiting, for death to swiftly glide into my room and steal my life. I wonder what the first thing people will say when they look upon my dead carcus and tears start to com out of their eyes. i wonder if they'll say "he wasn't ready!" but truth be told, i was. i have been waiting for this moment, building up my depression some fourteen years ago when i crawled out of my mothers womb and began my new life, my worthless undifying life. Sometimes i like to go to graveyards at at pick out where i want to be buryed i'm sixteen steps to the left of Ms. Johnson. i pick out the clothes i will wear on the day of my death there nothing special but they are very comfortable. it seems i don't have much time left as i walk into the hospital, sit down, and wait for my name to be called. as i walk into my room i sit on the bed and the doctor comes in, my head is very cold, maybe thats because all of my hair is gone.
© 2013 sabianlevasseur |
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Added on May 16, 2013 Last Updated on May 16, 2013 AuthorsabianlevasseurPort Charlotte, FLAbouthello, my name is sabian levasseur i am 14 and i love to write poetry ecpecally about females and nature and sports i hope you enjoy my work! more.. |