If Death Were To Steal Me Away

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Poem

Submitted: September 24, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 24, 2010



If death were to steal me away. . .

Some are afraid of death.

Or how they’ll die.

Or what they’ll be leaving behind.

But I’m not.

I wasn’t.

When Death came to me, I accepted it.

I closed my eyes, arms wide open.

I took what was coming to me.

Now, I flow through the world.

There’s no afterlife.

No big pearly gates.

I’m surrounded by nothing but living people.

These people go one with their lives.

But mine was ended.

Stolen right from under me.

And I accepted it.

When I was murdered,

I didn’t fight back.

I didn’t yell or scream.

Punch or kick.

Now I am nothing.

A thin film, invisible to people.

Destined to watch them live their lives.

As I pass through their solid bodies.

I sit here, and think of what I could’ve been.

Everything I could’ve accomplished.

The life I could’ve lived.

I wish.

I wish I could go back to that day.

I realize now I made a mistake.

Maybe if I would’ve fought.

Just maybe I’d be alive.

Maybe I’d be able to feel things.

The grass brushing my legs.

The waves of water slapping against my body.

The wind blowing through my hair.

What I wouldn’t give to have that ability again.

I guess it’s true.

You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

People take everything for granted.


But look at me!

I’m nothing!

My body sits in a box, six feet underground,

Disintegrating into nothing!

And everyone is moving on with their lives.

Don’t they care about me?

Don’t they care I was murdered?

They don’t seem like it.

I guess I knew it was coming.

Maybe I deserved it.

They look better off without me anyway.

They’re not grieving.

I wonder if I were still alive,

If they would still care for me?

Or would I just be a picture in a frame?

There, seen, but never heard?

But none of that matters anymore.

I’m gone.


There’s no coming back from death.

I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life in Limbo.

The rest of my death.

A dimension of nothing.

Nothing but a ghostly picture of my past.

Shimmering, fading.

Sending me further into obscurity.

Into nothing.


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