Mortality The thing that we dream of But hard to reach Only in fantasies A blessing to the soul But dangers await See the times pass Your friends dead the world change Or so we seek Afraid to die But how will we survive We shouldn’t be afraid But let death come to your aid Death comes to all of us So instead of pushing back Let it come to you instead

Time is ticking, Though you don’t notice.

The sand is falling Through the hourglass It sifts through your fingers Landing in a heap.

Your life is being drained, Everyday you’re a little less you.

The grim reaper is coming Closer and closer Until he’s standing over you With a scythe in his hand.

You open your mouth, It’s almost time to say goodbye.

The reaper lifts his scythe He’s ready But the question is Are you?

Mortalities the idea we can die That nothing can last forever Life will end one day Your’s or a friend’s
And one day both But do not grieve prematurely Enjoy your time while it lasts

Time, You feel it in your bones. Fine, As you stand by those stones.

Ache, That you didn’t have enough. Forsake, Just because you wanted to be though.

Burn, When the sight came. Turn, When you could lay claim.

Never, Make someone push beyond. Ever, Let them have a chance to bond.

Patience, So they can mourn. Perchance, Your empathy reborn.

…

I Love you baby 🖤

( not doing a poem cause yall know I aint rock like that.)

The more I dont hug my mother the more I see her age showing. The more I see it hurt. The more I see myself growing. Growing without her. Soon, without her guidance. Without her motherly affections to keep my going everyday. So I stopped spending so many hours mindlessely scrolling with no avail, to find that I much rather enjoy talking and laughing with my mother. Oh, what a sound.. play it again. But more often than not, I feel so much regret. I hardly can face my own mother without feeling swayed. Like air sucked from my body all at once, threatning the collapse of my legs. So instead, I really enjoy just hanging out with her, just as I did when I was younger. Thirteen now, and many more numbers to go. Yet through all, she’s the fire in my life. Not my deadbeat father. Or even the O amazing dog. So every day we go for a drive, or hike, or walk, or run, or laugh, or talk. I love every one, yet the one I love most, is when I’m able to just talk with her. To tell her things i’m incapable of with anyone else. She’s there, no matter the circumstances, and for that i’m forever grateful. So, now, hand in hand, worlds happily colldied as mother and daughter, we skip through life, through the bad stuff. We will never be separated, i’m sure.

She held my hand, and breathed her last next to me. Smiling. Red roses on your grave, mother. One by one these bloodhounds just keep coming. But now rest. Sleep in that casket that was already made. It sent goosebumps along my skin to see her once fiery eyes, once healthy and sweet self, dissapate like a finger snap. What cannibals, to eat from such a plentiful supper? Seeing her eyes no more glassy, but more of a matte color. Lifeless in every way, even love.

Good luck killing me now, because I already know where i’ll be.

Hand in hand, Time was always Running out.

The night is cold As time goes by I sit and stare Into the sky

Time continues It’s slow sad march While I stay put And watch it fly

This continues Night and day Until my light is gone And I go dark

Don’t be like me Go seize the day Or you like me Shall fade away

I’ve got a one-way ticket to Crazy Town Where they can never keep a good woman down. One might suspect fatherless behavior. Mine asked for a favor While he was out buying booze And came back less than enthused To tell me his body is breaking down particle by particle.

Death, with a full moon under his hood, strokes his sickle As it drools for a tendon to sever. I watch the blood trickle From my wrist, Wishing me Merry Christmas, Happy New Year And the best of luck in all my future endeavors.

We’re stuck in the running loop Of living with a shriveled spirit inside. My brain is soup And rage is alive.

The further I distance myself from tragedy, Diving into the deep end of the rolling green hills With waves like the sea And scenery that summon chills To run marathons up and down my spine.

This race, no one will win. You cross one finishing line just to find the other is out of reach. Once rigor set in And I sat for my afternoon tea As the smooth porcelain of my skin Out-purified the white of snow.

I’m not ready to go Into the light. If Life has taught me anything, It is that Death works according to his own time.

I don’t wanna Say goodbye But I can’t find away to make it out alive Please know I have tried But I can’t find away to make it out alive So goodbye So goodbye So goodbye So goodbye

So goodbye it’s time to get high again And I can’t seem to get you out my head I swear When I die just think about all the times we shared Because that time was time well spent

And I can’t help but cry None of the clothes I buy Fix what’s inside But my regrets haunt me every night I’ve asked god why So many god damn times But it’s about that time Because when I die I won’t get the chance to say goodbye So please don’t cry It’ll be alright

I don’t wanna say goodbye but I can’t seem to find a way to make it out alive I’ve tried But I can’t find away to make it out alive I’ve tried But I can’t find away to make it out alive So goodbye So goodbye So goodbye

Time might not be the sharpest tool in the shed But it’ll stab you with the sharpest tool Plunge into your chest, cut hearts with surgical precision Make a fool out of me and you

Shadows of past lives whisper through the dark, Lingering in devastated stories of families Crushed into dust. A lone bicycle wanders through a deserted park To witness a metal swing sway in the wind, Echoing with rust.

Families that thought they could live forever Ached with bottomless pits of despair As they tried to navigatee a world severed From maps of memories, and histories laid bare.

All things die and change. Our families Our homes. Our memories. Our mortality is our only constant.

But war can create so much loss Too fast for the brain to comprehend. Too many lives. Too many homes. Too many streets. Drift like dust in the wind.

How can you move forward When so many shadows of past lives Surround, infiltrate, and invade us?

Do you become a shadow yourself, shrouded in the pain of darkness?

Or do you weave those shadows into your own existence? And march forward and survive, as a form of resistence?

Breathe in every attempt to destroy you And watch as the world comes through for you.