Poem: To Die

Kyler B. Warhol August 16, 2021 Dead, Death, Poetry

Hello, pornies. I hope you've been okay. This have been though days again (yeah, again), but the good thing is that I've been writing once again, but also, after two years, I want to share something I just wrote.

Image by Daniel Langezaal from Pixabay.

I've been very, very vocal about my mental health issues, but I also think that something as awful can serve as an inspiration for something beautiful. I wanted to reflect what I am feeling now, and how different and similar it is from what I felt before. Both are forms of dying, but different on their own.

Feel free to interpret it as you prefer, but for me, it's better to always this open for debate instead of telling everyone what to think or get out of it. Let me know if you liked it or not, and if you'd like me to share more of my actual writing and not only devotional poetry and incantations.

Dying, dying, dying.
Always sinking in my garden.
Dying, dying, dying,
I keep ripping every fabric.
Dying, dying, dying,
During nights I just keep silent.
Dying, dying, dying,
Prayers heard by crystal angels.
KBW.
08/15/2021
11:15 PM.