Pleas of Futility

Grief Waits For No One

March 15, 2024 8:21am - 8:46am

I bleed and I bleed and I bleed
Blood breaks through and bruises rush to the surface.
I sit back in the tree, bark rubbing my skin to its bone.
I watch them.
What else is there to do when you've lost everything?

When everything's been ripped from you and all that's left is pairs of dislocated knuckles from grasping your most prized possessions too hard?

Death is not the end.
Death is never the end;
Because to them I've died and they mourn and they move on.
For me...
For me my spirit dies and I follow them—I keep them safe,
But I mourn forever.

And as I struggle to collect my thoughts as they slam against my cracked skull, desperate to get out, desperate to tell them, I'm still here—to scream "I'm alive!" at the top of my lungs—I find myself contradicting the thought most ingrained into memory, more present than sand on the beach.

...I wish I was alive again.