deepundergroundpoetry.com

Death-Bed

Scratch away, keep on scratching away
Claw until your nails turn to rubbish and sorry attempts
Try to crawl out of the walls that are closing in
Let the beds of your nails turn into your resting place.
There are no flowers for you.
No mourning, no arrangements
Ring the doorbell, let yourself wait for death
But there is no answer
There was never an answer
One day you’ll realize
And you’ll stop digging too.
Written by ChemicalRose (Meguana)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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