When I look around,
All I see is blackness.
Bleakness, nothingness.
Is anything real?
Is anything real but this
Pain that I feel?
Death. Death is real.
Cold morbid death,
A release from the pain.
A release from earthbound torments
That wrack this body endlessly.
Merciful death.
If only I could catch you up,
And snuggle cozily in your warm embrace.
Death is real.
Death and pain,
And of the two I choose death.
A ceasing of being in this forsaken barrenness
That we call life.
Death is real to me.
Maybe too real it might seem.
(c.)(2007) By KC Z.