Poems

Angry death

Sitting in my room,
I thought about why we all live
these lives we don't want to,
why we go through days,
when we just can't or don't want to.

Why we can't sit in peace,
just talk to our souls,
come to terms with our existence,
before going away to the outside again.

I wondered why my neighbour
didn't go to the police
when I saw the bruises on his face
shaped like knuckles of his father.

I wondered why all my dreams
only came true at the end of a pipe,
or in the eyes of a sweet lady sitting
across in a leather chair with a pen.

I wondered why she heard my shit,
when she clearly had her own,
more important concerns-real ones-
showed in the circles under her eyes.

I wondered why all my problems
only disappear at the bottom of a glass,
or in the arms of a mother I never had,
Why I couldn't move to help the world.

Suddenly I was angry at world,
the same world I was trying to help,
because for all its life it didn't seem
like it wanted any help at all.

One thing led to another and then
I was at my window looking at the sky-
screaming at it-to take it all away,
all the pain away, and give it to me.

I begged for death, and He came
before my red eyes and sore throat,
He listened to my screams and
then took my voice away.

I thrashed against Him-begging him-
to take me away, take me away,
but He held me in His arms,
Stroking my hair, "it's not time yet"

In a frenzy I thought to kill Death,
but He was long gone and He left me
with a numb anger I couldn't stop
and a Death wish I couldn't fulfill.