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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1223832
Short Poem
Waiting to die

Sitting and decomposing in this hell. Waiting to die.
Wish I could master it. Take it and mold it into a heaven,
like you do. Waiting impatiently in a void of pain, with
no escaping and no relief.  Day after day, I walk to the monotony
of stress.  To the rhythm of hate. Wish I could master it,
like you do. Maybe its best, because no humbleness would overcome me.
Because if I could master my heaven like you do, I would call myself God.

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