'No One Gets Out Of Here Alive'
Death is not envious, jealous, or proud- She is extreme.
For just the thought of Her, makes us tremble,
And as She draws closer, louder than loud…
You allow yourself time to bleed,
You open your eyes to the
deep, rich flow of Her crimson greed.
You feel your pulse quicken,
As your tears fall and mingle
with the dark red stain-
The human stain.
The doors that you opened,
And the windows to your soul-
Are the words that were broken,
As Death, swallows you whole.
Flesh turns into ashes,
Sunshine turns to rain-
Death takes you into Her arms,
Never to return again.
And the sadness lingers in their hearts and minds,
how will they ever survive.
Just don’t let Her door slam shut behind you…
Because No One Gets Out Of Here Alive!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
But more importantly, this is about sucide. Over the last several weeks, I have read a number of poems that reflect this, and I'm very concerned. I know that writing is a great release... but so is cutting, huffing, choking, and many other death-like vises that you may choose to endevour... but listen to me... listen to my words-
Reach out to someone. Reach out to Me! If things pile up on you so hard that you feel that death is the only way out...and I will help you find the light. I will be your friend. I will devour your words as sustanance... and share my words with hopes of a smile, a tear, or any thing that makes you feel when you feel like not feeling anything anymore. OK? ; -) -Kelly.
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