As I Lay Dying Poem by Bragg Adocio

As I Lay Dying

Birds are chirping songs on billboard's top three, because your body doesn't make that funny little whistle sound when you dropp from the second floor. And yet, any dropp you take automatically, apparently, has enough time to play a montage of your life to an audience of one and a room full of critics that measure the contents of your life as playable in a two-story drop.
Twenty feet of gravity and the only one that matters is the last. That last second. But, I guess, if it's only twenty feet, the first second is your last.
As life flows by with every regret multiplied ten-fold like a river, before you even get the chance to say Mississippi, time slows just enough to make you remember what you had chosen to forget, and make you regret that which you cannot remember.
The past is nothing but a memory, but when your present is a clear shot at your future, a fall could make you wish you were dreaming. A wake-up call to a restless REMnant as he falls from the bed, crashing down from the top floor of his imagination, clipped wings of the one who dreams of being a pilot.... Followed by a loud thud, and soft warm carpet, then a yell from afar in loving concern.
But if your lucky, a fall from that wall might just have you catching window pains. As you hit the ground, bleeding, sprawled out on the sidewalk, screaming, did you get a good look at your meaning?
Those flashes of light are only media lights, and you shouldn't stare at the sun or you might damage your eyes, though even in your damaged body it isn't pain you feel but a change in your life.