deepundergroundpoetry.com

I taste it

I could set the scene  
of falling leaves, cold dew  
and the feeble light of sunrise.  
 
I'd much rather say it straight;  
I'm ready to die  
to join him in the afterlife.  
 
To stop running,  
cease fighting it  
at every turn.  
 
And simply die.
Written by AscensionES (ae)
Published
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