Things Aren't as They Seem

this has kinda been rattling inside my head for awhile now....

blood does not flow through my veins,

but words and memories and little tidbits of growing pains

fill my body and collide with my blood cells like a miniscule ocean 

so much commotion in this body of mine,

this heart tick tock ticking counting down the time

 till the workers carry their lunch pails out from the underground world of filth and grime

and im ferried off to eternally deal with my internal guilts and crimes

this is not breath leaving my lungs

 but whispers of tomorrow and of the farther futures to come

this is not air escaping my lips,

but a wind traveling to the four corners of the earth

telling the world of my time suffered against life's barbed whips,

this is not breath leaving my body,

but a deflated reflection  of the world against the heavy bottom of my soul.

this not stiffness taking over my bones,

but my muscles simply leaving well enough alone,

this is not death that my appearance reeks of,

just the poetry written from a life well lived

and the living,having had their years,

being called on from what comes after here.

The End

10 comments about this poem Feed