When the end comes.
I've been told it's beautiful.
Like a soothing lullaby.
And the end to this
to crippling inwards
holding your chest tight
so it wont break
the ribs protruding
soaring into the sky
help me leave behind
all the reasons to exist
when alone and empty
and forgetting
not pretending
it gets easier to end
this lie has lived too long
the chorus is fading
a single note adrift
and still no fairytale fireworks
Must give up the thought
that someone else
can save me from myself
seeking out the moment
searching in my mind
cursing the crossfire
one more word and
I won't survive
everyday I'm amazed
that I'm not scared
not scared to die
and everyday I think
if it happened today
I wouldn't mind
I would even embrace it
nothing for anyone to gain
so why not end the strain
emptiness in the eyes
the tide that passes me
is there anyone who truly lives?
Why does the answer
scare me to suicide
while some can still hope
for a future
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I love the first stanza. It's really the bittersweet taste of ending. I don't know if you intended it or not, but it feels to me very ironic with the first sentences proclaiming that the ending is beautiful, and then the following sentences with the "ribs protruding" as a sharp contrast, saying that it isn't so soothing at all.
We want the endings to be beautiful, especially our own. But they seldom are. They are usually out of our control, and come with much less elegance than we would've wanted.
very beautifully written, "emptiness in the eyes
the tide that passes me
is there anyone who truly lives?" being alive without living, I think that is scary, fairly pointless, but still with so much potential.
I don't think the end is ever beautiful though, I think life is, and what comes next, but the in-between, the actual passing, no, I don't think that can beautiful, it pales too much in comparison.
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