„Death is a kindness“
again this murmur,
this silent whisper in my head.
„Death is painful“, I fight back instead.
The voice continues,
strangely soothing in it’s peaceful tone,
still sending shivers through my bones.
„Death comes to collect our aching bodies,
but most of all… our aching hearts,
in life we witness sweetness,
but also grief, when it all falls apart.
There is love, but also loss.
Greatness, but also flaws.
Good and bad, it’s a chase
and usually no one wins the race.
Until… the end.
Until irreprebable damage
seals our hearts shut,
until we fall so deep,
that we can’t stand back up.
After that moment
there are no good days,
merely survivable ones, they say.
The painful memories become too much.
The guilt seeps into every single touch.
The scars we got are fading away,
but the scars we caused,
putrefy by the day.
Some losses become permanent now
while the clock counts our opportunities out.
Quite morbid, this life.
But yet we are told
„Good will always triumph!“
A saying that never gets old.
I concur,
I do not oppose,
because death is a kindness,
no threat does it pose.
When our hearts no longer heal,
and are left to bleed out.
When our hands no longer feel,
and sense all alike.
When our thoughts grow darker still,
with no inkling of light.
You’re ready…
This can happen in your youth,
this can happen in your prime,
or when „it’s time“.
But when it does it’s always right.
You’re not losing this last fight.
You’re at the final stop, you see.
And death will greet you, it’ll set you free.