Raynolds Moseamedi

Diary Of A Dying Man

There is a space, between life and death
A fine line without silver lining
It's filled with despair and feelings of crap
There is a rope on my neck
So tight I feel it sinking in
Somehow I am not dead, well not yet
I'm suppose to feel remorse and regret
But the only regret I have is not dying sooner
I can't yell for help, not while I'm still alive
I'll wait till I'm nothing but a floating bag
Even so my language is of no sense
It's my soul, it is just standing right there
and watching tears from a hollow hole in my sockets
Well I wish I could talk right now even for 2 seconds
I'd tell it I'm happy and I'm glad I'm going to die
The rope on my neck, sinking in deeper
I can bearly breathe, this weird horrid tone
Like a dying suffocating wild hog
Through my skin and through the bruises on my neck
My body is turning pale I know it's in terrible pain
It'll end soon, trust me, it'll soon end
I see the flection through the puddle of blood on the floor
I look pretty weird like superman in his blue and red costume
With kryptonite on his neck
my soul why are you just standing there
Is it my dry voice and red eyes
Or the way my body like a swinging rope
Finds a wall after wall bashing like a wrecking ball
Is it why you're still here, does this pain fascinate you
Find open clouds it's almost 3 seconds
I don't feel remorse or regret
The only regret I have is not dying sooner.

Topic(s) of this poem: writing, dark, death, deaths, farewell, life, life and death, lifespan, poetry

Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 22, 2020

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Comments about Diary Of A Dying Man by Raynolds Moseamedi

  • Deluke MuwanigwaDeluke Muwanigwa (8/22/2020 6:11:00 AM)

    Beautiful dark poem with lighter moments. Umm..are you still there now?

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