The last night

Bloodstains on my old hands
My mind travels to distant lands
Thoughts wander to the edge
My toes tickle the sharp ledge

Regret is all I have to show
Misguided truths are all I know
I wanted out, I could see the light
But cursed to stay one more night

“I’m worth more alive than dead”
This thought poisons my head
Unable to leave this eternal hell
Silent whispers turn into a yell

As moons start to rise
The pure darkness cries —
“The nighttime is near,
you are what you fear!”

I charted my own path
My own Grapes of Wrath
This is my doomed fate
Tombstones need a date

This day of my demise
Surely it’s no surprise
The reaper takes one more
So this tortured soul can soar.


A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 07-21-20

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