We are afraid of death-
Alright fuck it, I'll be real with you guys.
I havent slept in a few days, and generally, I'm reaching another all time low.
Man, I'm tired. I'm angry. I'm numb.
But what pisses me off most of all,
I'm not getting better.
I've worked. I've worked until my final breath. I've worked until my mind was plagued
and my body had broken.
But I'm still working.
I've fought. I've fought until my knuckles were bloodied and my fists burned.
I've kicked and torn my way from the depths of hell, raising it a fair share,
and giving the devil a run for his money.
But I'm still fighting.
I've screamed. I screamed until my lungs cracked. I screamed for hope. I screamed for peace.
I screamed for just one little glimsps of light.
But I still sit in this dark room. I still don't see a light,
and I still wonder why I havent just fucking died yet.
Funny isnt it.
We're put on this earth with promises of splendor, or so we're told.
We're told to work. We do until we can't. Then we die.
The drugs don't work anymore. I'm numb on my own now.
But I wanted that.
Life goes hand in hand with death.
Give me life and cut the hand off, because I am afraid.
I am afraid.
What's the resolution?
C'mon Kaz, you always write a resolution in your poems, a final "Hoorah".
Not this time.
I love you all.
Turn on the lights.