When he comes for me,
I’ll smile as my soul is snatched,
because I heard once that there was more to life than dying,
but I never really believed it.
I spent a long time last night,
asking myself if it would hurt to finally be torn from this life,
but my body is bruised,
my heart, hurt in so many ways,
so maybe it doesn’t matter.
Maybe just one more test before I taste life without longing for relief is worth it?
Will it really be life?
Has this muddling, puddle of regret and remorse been life?
How will I know who I am and where I’ve been,
if I don’t look at it from above, before