deepundergroundpoetry.com

My Dark Mind

 
 
I think of death and have my whole life;    
trying to hide thoughts on it
that shaped my mind when I was so young.  
 
I stared at his dead body; my abuser’s,
In some deadpan stricken relief --
saved from suicide.  
 
I don’t know where those thoughts came from;
the ones that said I had to die.  But they left me.  
I’m sensitive to know that death is a part of life.  
 
If death is on my mind, then it is in my bones.  
My dark mind is filled with my own.  
Just to be certain.
Written by Pishashee
Published
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