dial

Death was calling for me, or was I calling for it?

 

Was it the shadow that loomed around us growing up or, was it the light we saw in the dark

 

Was it feeding off our failures and defeat or, was it slurping up our moments of happiness and joy

 

Was it the fear holding us back or, was it it the feeling that screamed “go for it”

 

Was it the misery and longing or, was it the contentment with what we had 

 

Is it an experience that will be uncomfortable or, will it be freeing 

 

Is it a person

 

Is it a creature 

 

Is it real

 

fake

 

Is it the past

 

Present 

 

Future 

 

Or does it have a phone waiting for you to pick it up and dial its number.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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