A POEM FOR THE LIVING

TO LIVE IS TO BREATH IN DEATH,TO BREATH IN TOXINS,TO COME SOONER TO GRIPS WITH YOUR DEMISE.BLACK-BLACK IS THE COLOR OF MY LIFE,OF MY SHIRT,OF MY ROOM,HAIR AND SOMETIMES HEART.MY SOUL IS A MERE EMPTYNESS TUB WAITING TO GET FILLED UP.BUT ALL I GET IS PAIN AND SUFFERING.IVE SEEN SO MUCH HATE AND DEATH THAT MY EYES HURT.YET NO CURE BUT HAPPINESS IN MY DREAMS.AND EVEN MY DREAMS HAVE BEEN SCORN AND RAPED BY NIGHTMARES UNORTHADOX TO THIS WORLD.AND AS I WRITE THIS POEM I NOTICE IT IS SO MUCH EASIER TO HATE THAN TO LOVE.MY HEART IS NOT SPECIAL.IT DOES NOT CRY OR HATE,OR EVEN LOVE!MY HEART JUST PUMPS BLOOD AND KEEPS ME ALIVE.BUT WHEN IT STOPS I WILL BE HAPPY AND YET NOT EVEN KNOW IT.BUT I KNOW I WONT SUFFER,CRY OR EVEN HURT.AND TO NOT HAVE THAT IS HAPPINESS.BUT TO HAVE IT...IS TO LIVE.