Mourning - Poem by Razorblade Kiss
I sit alone pondering the mysteries of life.
A blade in my hand.
What happens when it ends?
Is there some better place that we go?
A man steps out of the darkness and says it will be ok.
I nod my head and make the cut.
The blood seeps out like an erupting volcano.
They say that those closets to death know all the answers in the world.
They lie, I found no answers to what I seeked.
Instead what I found was pain.
Pain of my life that has past.
Now as blood runs down my lifeless fingers.
And I take my last breath; the man from the shadows takes form.
He is dressed in black, and carries a scythe
I believe he is the reaper of souls.
Here to collect mine lost long ago.
As he reaches out and takes my hand, I pull back.
I am not sure if I should trust this man, who rules over the damned.
Finally I give in, and as we leave for the forsaken land.
I take one more glance of this world.
And mourn those still in it.
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