The Vanishing Act

This is not a poem, this is a goodbye...
I can almost hear the seconds ticking away on the clock that is time.
I'm almost free from this prison I call my body.
I've almost escaped the Warden I call Mother.
I'll be free to vanish and I want to disappear.
I'm going to drop off the grid.
Be unborn with a featureless face.
Fingerprints smooth as glass.
I'll be untraceable.
Not even my dental records will survive.
And then the end will come.
Maybe I'll find a green meadow, and paint it red under the full moon.
Or possibly a canyon, go out with a bang that sounds like splat.
I'm almost free from the loved ones.
They stopped me without knowing.
If they didn't care as much it'd be done already.
If they wouldn't be hurt I'd be gone.
This is not a poem...
This is a Goodbye...
From the nameless man...
From the faceless man...
From the no man...
Goodbye