I like to people-watch,
Sometimes,
When I'm tired of watching the back of
My eyelids, or my rotting
Soul,
Wilted like the Beast's red
Rose

To the girl with the perpetual smile and
The naive children, but also
The man who
Praised God for taking away his
Cancer
Tumor:

I admire your hope, but I'm sorry, you're
All wrong and you don't even
Know it

You fear death like a beast waiting at the
End of a
Tunnel
And cling to life as though it's the hand keeping
You from falling off the edge of
A cliff called
Happiness

When really the most unnatural thing
Of all was being
Born

Life was never probable or meant
To happen,
So why are we here? I don't care, to
Tell you the
Truth

I crave the end of the tunnel like I crave
A dreamless sleep, the
Light
That they say awaits me there

Death
Was made for those like me, for those
Who embrace
Reality

And I'm sorry, but I don't want your
Help or your
Therapy,
Because it's kind of like frostbite, this
Sadness

And so trying to get better is like
Washing my
Hands
In warm water after days in
The snow:
The pain of trying to feel again might
Kill me
Faster

The agony I'd have to
Endure
As you try and warm my cold,
Dead heart
Is not something I will ever willingly
Embrace again

But it's okay, because I'm past the point
Of salvation
Anyways,
And my suffering will be the first to
Go,
Not my appendages

I used to envy those who are numb with
The cold,
Because apathy seemed beautiful
Compared to
This

But though I think I might
Be dying;
Now that I've bled out, and my chest
Is still,
I feel every last goddamn inch
Of pain
That I've been holding at arms
Length

But it's not my own, it's
Yours,
And have I mentioned I'm
Sorry?