A Prolonged Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Not all endings are happy, but some of them are more freeing than anyone else will ever know. "Who knew when one day She wasn't looking, this would happen."

Submitted: August 13, 2018

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Submitted: August 13, 2018

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A A A


I’m waiting for the waves to wash me away, waiting for the moon to guide me someday. That smile to let me know everything’s going to be okay. That moment when I’m begging to be persuaded.

I was born out of love, yet love did not create me. I sit in a dark combination of sorrow, of loneliness – it consumes me. I reach my hand out to Him and the wind brushes my fingertips. My spine retracts pulling me with it. Goosebumps spread over my skin like a rash seeking dominance. A single drop of water, of salt, trickles down my flushed cheek, turning the corner of my lips, and greets my chin.

My hand grasps the edge as I slowly descend. The lukewarm water strangles me, holding tight. My hair spreads seeking land as my heart presses against my chest. My eyes ever so clean though tortured by the things I’ve seen. Desperately wishing it was all just a dream, still a baby so innocent. The tears begin to blend unnoticeably. My heartbeat is the only thing I hear, the only thing that scares me.

My vision, now, blinds me from reality as I lie there untouched, unsound, and unholy. The life I have consumed, the life that is being closely monitored. Who knew when one day She wasn’t looking, this would happen? My nostrils flare hoping to send me afloat. My fingers forced below are fighting to pull up, but my brain is anchored.

The water ever so gentle now a violent storm as my legs kick and splash. So many times I have tried to wash my hands of my sins and difficult upbringing. Clearly it is my entire body as flesh and blood that is affected. I am infected. My heart tenderizing my chest comes to a feeble restraint as my head jolts in desperation, my ears ringing and stinging. The diluted water fills my mouth as my sense of touch fades along with the other four.

I can no longer tell the difference between reality and my reality. I can no longer wait. My eyes slowly close as my body, pale white, falls into a deep slumber, hoping to never again be disturbed. Hell awaits me on the other side laughing, expecting, luring.

I used to be good, my grades high above all else, my life prancing days at a time. I laughed and smiled every day not knowing it would ever sink to this. No longer do I remember what my laugh sounds like, feels like; that a smile ever so sneaky is a smile completely devious. I only used mine as a simple act of masquerade, screaming behind the mask hoping someone would hear me. Alas, it was if I was the ghost in the room, solids walking through my gas-like figure taking advantage of my silent presence.


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