Fleeting
In a perfect world
You would be the bee pollinating me, saving me from death,
Allowing me to grow, to reproduce, and to bloom.
However, we don't live in a perfect world,
And you eventually gave up on watering my dead, withering roots.
I was done before you flew in, and you knew it,
Yet you stayed, and you gave me hope in this somber existence,
But nothing is everlasting,
And we were not an exception.
No Escape Big Enough For the Mind
Lying on the train tracks, I bleed out profusely.
My aches become gradually more unbearable as I realise no other train is coming, and all I have left are my thoughts of the peace I once felt so deeply.
I will not be put out of my misery, but rather, I will be forced to lie here, slowly driving myself mad with my conscious and sentient mind, replaying these moments over and over.
I feel everything. Every limb, every bone, every hair on my body,
And yet,
No amount of physical pain compares to the memories I am left with.
While my body rots and slowly fades away with every passing minute, I become a corpse with a beating heart.
No one is around to hear my cries.
I do not want to be saved; I only wish for my mind to begin rotting as well.
