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Everything You Do
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Messages : 102
Date d'inscription : 08/03/2016
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MessageSujet: Everything You Do Dim 3 Juin - 0:42
Eveything you do is a draft until you die

He was going to die
But there was no time for a goodbye.
He was just so sure
That he would not be able
To see his own very near future.
His fingers walked on his suture
He felt he was going so unstable
That the entire room became obscure.

It came as a relief.
He looked around him
But he could not see any grief.
Not that he wanted to anyway.
The place became even more dim
So much that he did not want to stay.

His soft wrinkled fingers
Seemed to burden the sheets
With a weight he knew too well.
His presence turned into a stink that lingers
The only way for him to escape the smell
Was to run into the streets.

Money had been spent.
Drugs had been eaten.
Nothing was ever spoken.
He felt, there in the bed, so beaten.
If anything, he was just a puppet, broken
For which nobody had content.

The whole room turned white
As if he was already gone
Not without a certain delight.
All he had to wait for now was Dawn.

No one had came to see him
No one seemed to care
He surely did not.
No one was on his mind
In his brain there was only a knot
That made everything so dim.
He had never given much thought to his place in mankind
All he needed was air.
He stood up.

"Sir, you are sick."
"I know."
She did not even say 'hello'.
She must have thought he was a lunatic.
"What is your name?"
He forgot her name. And felt shame.
She giggled. "What is your name?"

While he thought he could swank
And deliver that common knowledge,
Dread appeared in the corner of his skull,
His whole life became null,
As he drew a blank.
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Everything You Do
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