Words of my soul

I wrote this when my godfather died.

Thoughts run a marathon through my mind.
Never fully sure of just what they are.
A faulted thought process just going without rest.
Pleasant, unpleasant, good or bad, never knowing what will be next.
The next step, the next breath, the next meal, your last before your death
Going without rest, no stopping, no breaking just full throttle ahead
Laid to rest, some say its for the best, but a jealous mind says the cruelest of words.