
He told how his name
expressed himself in seven letters
but how eventually
the cycle of life always wins
in one form or another
He told them
how warmth and cold
are alike
but how they just hurt
a little differently -
how we chase Goldilocks realms
and hearts that won’t let us in
He taught them the great divide
of human life:
the difference between
what we think we should be,
what we want to be,
and how their boundaries are blurry
to our fading eyes
He taught them what crooked smiles
said with numb lips and chapped skin
But also what he meant
when he said he wanted to die
That nobody chooses death -
just a peaceful existence
that doesn’t involve having to exist at all
He said that good men only have rest
in the results of their actions,
then wrote about his sleepless nights
Ones he believed were well-deserved
but that he knew they weren’t
He told them how he really felt
with tear-stained ink scribbles
and the last signature he ever wrote
One slightly tilted with the first letter
neater
than the last
About the Creator
Phoenix S.
Creating to heal the wounds I unfortunately call home.




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