Even the Trees are Praying

I planned my death when I was ten;

A moment that’s stained my brain, ingrained.

I’ve always thought back on it fondly

But now to darkness it has drawn me.

 

A faded memory repressed and obsessed over;

A dream of falling forever and a sleeping leap.

Dropping from comfort to be kissed by the floor

And left with a lingering lust to feel more.

 

Feel more of this falling and less of life calling;

Less of the feelings that offer nothing but pain.

This diminishing desire to keep up with life’s pace

Leaves nothing but the will to escape from this place.

 

To escape through the sky and fall and fly

And experience that dream again as I die.

 

Perhaps the path below is paved

With thoughts that I am just enslaved

Into this life that’s sick, depraved,

Where not a single soul is saved.

 

These thoughts come from a world of winter,

Remembered oddly under a summer glow.

 

The twisted spikes of moments bleak,

Make happy thoughts feel charred and weak;

Merging, mingling, moulding in my mind

Silver linings and thorns, all combined.

 

I’ll keep fighting to bring together

My darkness and the side that’s better.

I’ll pay you back, relentless debtor;

Raining sadness, ever wetter.

 

Flip a coin to choose each day;

Is the pain real or held at bay?

 

From dark to light I’ll just keep swaying;

From angels to demons I should be slaying.

Instead it seems I’m just decaying;

Hell, even the trees are praying…