The Ceiling Fan Poem by Phillip Dodham Cormier

The ceiling fan slowly rotates above me.
The fan’s shadow is cast across my body
I lay motionless, thinking of times past
Times of excitement
Times of joy
Times when life meant something to me
Now all I can think about is death
Life is nothing to me now
No reason to live, yet no reason to die
I am trapped; I am confused
The ceiling fan slowly rotates above me.
I think of blood
I think of mangled limbs
I think of corpses
Death fills my mind
Life is nothing to me now
All the while the fan’s shadow is cast upon me
Why must I stay on this planet?
What is here for me?
My mind is filled with the pictures of war
The disemboweled corpses
The rotting corpses
The corpses of the young
The corpses of the old
The corpses of the innocent
The corpses of the guilty
Death fills my mind
The world has been turned into a killing field
The world is nothing but a cemetery
The world goes round and round
The ceiling fan rotates above me
Why should I live?
Why should I be another victim of the world?
Why do I live?
The Pistol
The Poison
The Noose
Or the Knife
How will it end?
When will it end?
Life is nothing to me
Death fills my mind
All the while the fan rotates above me
Casting shadows upon me