Distractions: A Book of Poetry

Poems that I've written

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55. Disappear

They say I am

nothing

worthless

a waste of space.

 

Maybe

they are right.

Maybe I am

empty space

with no cause

I am always in the way.

 

Maybe that is why

the silver blade

the orange bottle

the cold black barrel

the fraying braid

looks so

appealing.

 

Maybe that is why

I look at

the onyx waves

the jagged edge

the open window

the flickering orange tongues

and feel compelled to move

closer.

 

The face in the glass

is but

a skeleton

a ghost

a shadow

the empty shell of who

I used to be.

 

I will greet

the darkness

as an old friend,

arms stretched

wide and warm

 

I will

take the silver in my hand

the orange bottle

the cold metal

the fraying braid.

 

I will meet the call

of the

onyx waves

the jagged edge

the open window

the flickering orange tongues.

 

I walk towards Death,

I reach out to grab his hand,

I enter the shadows,

I

DISAPPEAR.

  (this is actually supposed to be a slam poem)
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