Death Is My Wish Poem by Desiree Eaton

Nights of twisted hope, in some endless vortex. Thoughts of you make me realize Of how empty people in this world really are. So useless, shallow. Your ravenous eyes, tormented, robbed, but still It’s been so long since you’ve felt good at all. Your life means nothing to you, so you try to take mine. How pitiful you are.

It seems that breathing air only serves to torment me now, Words that strangle hearts, like vines in a spiteful cage. The nerve wracking pain. As bitter as the blood I am spilling. I wait for the time where non-existence would be a gift.