My sense of dread hits me harder than the sense of regret

Which is funny, due to the fact that regret is what got me in this. Better yet,

The thought of death alone keeps me comforted, a string of sensitivity and unknowing but knowing the eternity of darkness that surrounds me.

It bombards me. Keeps me company in my sense of self in my heart strings.

Unknowing yet unseeing,

The prophecy is being,

Is deeming,

Me unfit from leaving,

While I’m grieving,

The unweaving breathing of my meaning.