Leave me to die in this
bitter cold storm of my
own self loathing nature.
Let me see the world not
in the shades of grey,
but in the blue of my
own defeat.

Let me rest my head
on the bleak harsh
earth that spreads
grit all over my aweful mind.
Let my tragic head
take the blunt of the blows.

As I rest my head I stare
into the sky to see
the burning of the stars
above me.

No longer am I happy,
with the world around me.
And my mind is but how
I was when I was a youth.
I beg for no attention
or the desire to spread
my tragic nature.

Only to share the world
so that those who live
before me and after me
would simply learn
from my own pathetic life.

If you were a foot and I was
a bug please show mercy,
and extinquish this life.
It would be simple to have
lived and never tasted grandeur
then to have lived and witnessed
it for a short while.

My heart is but an empty shell now,
and my feet have danced to long
in the lime light for your attention.
So as I lay in bed begging for the
scythe in your hand to harvest
my soul I can only smile in joy.

08/20/2003

Posted on 08/21/2003
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin