Poetic

It'd be poetic to do it on my birthday wouldn't it be?

Leave the day I came?

A friend says I'd ruin that day for everyone else but I've been too empathetic.

I've delayed the inevitable because I've cared too much about how others would feel.

I need a selfish moment for my self.

With Rue's death, it opened my eyes to the futility of it all; trying to live.

Heck, would I pay anything for a drug laced in fentanyl right about now.

I've not googled the symptoms in itself of a fentanyl overdose but even after all the painful breathing... She found peace.

It seems like a peaceful way to die.. dreaming you're in your mother arms.

Knowing me, my dream instead would be a nightmare. What would my 7 minutes of last brain activity look like?

Or maybe this is it really. My 7 minutes has sure been too long. Extra long, I want out already.

I seek rest. Rest.

I am tired.

I'd be doing the world a favor anywhere and even if I weren't, why should I keep on caring..?

One moment of no weakness from me, one slit... pardon my French, one slit moment of action and I'd be free.

The problem now is I have 99 other moments to fight to win.

But they're weak these days. So I have a fair shot at it this time around.

They're tired.

I am tired.

We're tired.

AweleKume