Driving up a mountain I speed towards the end; hopes death will come claiming a body that is distend. Many stand watching with curiosity; little do they know my life has been a monstrosity.
“A suicide is what it appears to be” says an officer.
“A unified family for him will cry in plea” says a coroner.
Marks all over his body told the tale of a boy who lived in a constant jail. His nose showed signs of scabs and redness; trails upon his veins described a life void of census. Yet, none took inventory of why he felt thus; all stood judging – taking this moment as an opportunity to discuss.
Alone I have suffered throughout all my life; who the fuck are you to come today cutting with a knife? Don’t stand there thinking better of yourself; in my intoxication I knew you were trying to assert yourself! Life is nothing more than a crash test; though you may think I failed the quest – I must say, in God’s eyes better was my heart pumping in my inebriated chest. So, before you fuckers come crying your fake tears to my cremation, let this poem be a sign sent to you as a cessation.
“He will surely be missed” say the fakers!
“Look at the cuts on his wrist” say the takers!
The taking hands take all they want; they never ask or show signs of daunt. Accumulation is what they desire and want; in the end it is what kills and haunts.
A crash test – A crash test...
They’ll die abreast – They’ll die abreast!
Fastening my seatbelt I look toward an ending road; looking forward I do not fear the afterlife as my abode. Come what may come I am ready to take my leave; those who truly love me do not be taken by grieve. Know that in the next sphere I will await for you; until then I bid you all a farewell - an adieu!
Crash test...
