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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1867532
This is a poem that I wrote when I was going through a rough point in life.
My heart, it longs for love, my broken soul for strength to carry on.
As I weep and write this letter, knowing soon I will be gone.
No one listened. no one guarded, no one loved and no one cared.
So I guess I'll go to Heaven; for I'll belong up there.
With white robes and crimson ribbons, tied neatly and precise,
I'll ask about the future; "is it good, is it nice?"
They say up here, it's wonderful, but back home it's looking grim.
They say it got the best of me, and chances are real slim.
"Is she breathing, is she with us?" I hear my sister cry;
"I don't know if she'll make it through," dad says with a sigh.
I flat-lined twice and I stopped breathing, my pulse began to dive.
I was sure that I was dead now, but how did I survive?
My pulse began to plummet now, any second; this was it.
And just then my little heart stopped beating and my lungs gave up and quit.
© Copyright 2012 Enola Perry (carebear_96 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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