Last Rites
I wish I could pretend that dying
does not terrify me to my very core,
that I am not scared of my poor heart
finally shuddering to a stop in my chest.
/
But I feel fear beyond all measure.
Not for what comes afterwards,
when my body is rotting away
in the earth, amongst worms and leaves.
/
There is nothing beyond my closed eyes;
no god, no secrets, no second life waiting.
In death, I am a ghost
in a world that does not believe in them.
/
I am scared instead of misdemeanours,
of some blind Samaritan,
of my soul drifting into the darkness
and then being yanked back into the light.
/
I am scared of being left as a shell
more so than I already am.
I do not wish to have to endure my life
through eyes that died a long time ago.
/
I hope that when I go, it will be as quick
as a star shooting through the night sky.
It takes courage to fall into nothing.
One day, perhaps I will be brave enough.
(Typed on my phone so I hope the formatting is okay!)
Posted Aug 17, 2018, 11:16 PM UTC · edited