deepundergroundpoetry.com
Paradise
Heaven is sitting in a conference room,
Waiting for group to begin
When your knife doesn’t cut down deep enough
The pills don’t quite work alright
The dawn of the next life
Blazes while stale fluorescent lights buzz
There's an angel next to me
She is far too skittish to speak
She rocks back and forth anxiously
Her arm is embroidered with scars
I hope she doesn’t see mine
The clock reads eight thirty-five
In the distance, there are soft whispers
Quiet, to not disturb us
They speak of a new treatment plan
A new survivor is here
My hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail
To keep it out of my eyes
My pencil scratches fast along the paper
To keep tears out of my eyes
The tip of it never leaves my page
Here, with the deranged and the bruised
Insane as I may be too
Like zombies undead, miraculously saved
This is the life after death;
Sitting here in paradise
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