I was twenty-five when I died.
The memory to me was merely a stain.
I recall convulsing, twitching, and static
thoughts- blaring through my frantic brain.
Then the white I saw behind my eyelids
grew distant, and black had settled in.
Heaven itself fell away and darkness
took up residence, embodied me in sin.
When I awoke, my senses were screaming-
the pain was intense then quickly died away.
Jumpstarted, revved, then running smoothly-
I felt better than I ever had, I dare say.
He was sitting on the settee beside me, smiling-
his soul was burned inside my veins and mind.
He was such a mysterious and beautiful creature.
I knew instantly- now, I was one of his kind.
I was twenty-five when I died...
and that was when I really became alive.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.05 seconds at 10:20am on Nov 05, 2024 via server WEBX1.