Death

Blood streams from my pale lips,
Bullets have torn my skin into flesh strips.
Life for me is coming to a climactic end,
My window on the world is beginning to bend.
I know it will soon break,
Sending my spirit to fiery lake.
I rest my head against the brick,
Ballistic riddled wall,
I know longer feel proud,
I no longer stand tall.
Instead I sit here pathetic and weak,
A reflection of the havoc I myself had once reeked.
Death had always been apart of my life,
So I guess there’s some irony in my new found strife.
They march toward me,
Those night winged demons,
Ready to drag me away,
I am ripe for the season.
I could care less,
Within I confess,
I have no expectation for extended vitality.
What else is reality,
Except my constant struggle with duality,
The demon leader grasps at my jaw,
Plunging his icy fingers into my soft facial skin,
So what if he wins?
With careless contempt I spit into his void expression,
I will accept death but not repression,
Blank stare greets his piercing screams,
I no longer fear death,
Nor the pain it brings,
It drags me away,
Where there are no shades of gray,
As I descend into hellish fraternity,
I instantly realize my own eternity,
I laugh as it pulls me under,
I no longer wonder about that which I used to.
For what does one have to lose once he has lost it all?
Victory I have found in scaling that towering wall.