The Sun and the Moon

Death should be easy.

It should be painless.

It should be a blessing

That comes to those

Who truly want it.

 

Death shouldn’t be a punishment.

It shouldn’t be something to fear.

It shouldn’t be this thing

That is held over

One’s head.

 

I wish for death.

I wish for the pain to end.

I wish I could sleep

And never wake again;

For forever slumber.

 

Every time the sun rises,

I have this feeling of dread.

Another day I have to face,

Another day I have to survive,

Another day death eludes me.

 

As the moon rises,

Death calls to me again.

The call is stronger

While the moon is shining.

I have no idea why…

 

And the sun rises again…

And the moon appears once more…

Over and over.

The call of death

Is ever present in my life.

 

This cry of death,

It’s so romantic to me.

The idea of the end of my life

Seems so splendid to me

That I can hardly resist the thought.

 

Resistance is an elusive idea…

Why do I even try?

Why would I resist

The call of death

When it is all I truly desire?

 

Is it for them?

My friends?

Is it the love they have

For me that keeps me going?

Or the pain it would inflict on them?

 

The cry of death is strongest

While everyone else

Is sleeping…

When I have no one…

No one to call on to walk me through the pain.

 

While the sun is nearby,

I gather strength

From it’s mighty rays.

The light energizes some need

To put one foot in front of the other.

 

When the sun disappears

And the moon returns,

I lose my will to live.

I lose sight of the “why” of the fight.

I lose myself.

 

The moon brings out the pain.

The moon brings on the need.

It brings the need for eternal sleep.

People sleep when the moon

Is in the sky, after all.

 

This desire for death,

This call of oblivion,

Has always been there.

At least it seems

I have always felt this way.

 

I know no different.

I know no other reality.

The call of death,

The desire for extinction of my lifeforce,

Will it ever leave me?

 

Will I ever be happy?

I’d settle for content…

Hell, I’d accept just relief.

Anything is better than wishing for death

Every time I see the moon.

 

Don’t misunderstand me…

The call of the darkness

Is ever present,

Even while the sun is shining bright as fire.

The craving doesn’t set with the moon.

 

The bonfire only burns hotter

When the stars are watching.

The sparks fly and singe the hairs on my arms

As I sit too close

Breathing in the smoke of my craziness.

 

I’m acutely aware this line of reasoning,

This wanting death so desperately

That my soul hurts with a pain that never ceases,

Is not normal.

That it’s pathological.

 

But it’s my normal.

The fascination with death,

The obsession with it, really,

It’s all I know and have known

For as long as I can remember.

 

I want to die.

I want to be dead.

I want my life to end.

I want to leave this world,

Forever.

 

The question that remains,

And I visited this briefly…

Why am I still here?

If death calls to me so powerfully,

Why have I not answered?

 

The answer to that query

Lies beyond me.

It lies beyond this earth.

It lies among the sun

And with the moon.

 

There is something bigger,

Keeping me alive,

Keeping me here,

For some plan that is beyond my comprehension.

And I have to accept that I will pass in it’s time, not mine.

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