On Dying

February 26, 2011
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A feeling of falling
A shock up my spine
A sensation of freedom
All will be fine

A kiss of the sun
The caress of the moon
The feeling of closing
My eyes all too soon

A velvet bed
With walls of pine
And a lid to this box
A guess it’s my time

The sensation of floating
Then lowered far down
I can smell earth corroding
A scent so strong I might drown

Shovels are piling
Me into this cage
I try to cry out
But can’t voice my rage

Panic is spiking
As everyone leaves
I try to tell them
My dead corpse deceives

I’m really not gone
I’m not really dead
But the only voice I hear
Is the one in my head

My lips so still
They can never smile
And my body so limp
To move would be a trial

But what’s this?
A light?
Though my eyes are close
My mind fills with sight

I feel myself turn
I am looking upon my tomb
And though I no longer have form
My presence still looms

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