DEATH REMEMBERS ME

The night I almost stared into the face of Death

I stared through the window, impassive.

Nothing mattered.

What was even left for me?

Marks were all over my arms,

And the agonizing pain anchored me to reality.

Potential risks I did consider,

Yet not as bad as the hollow inside my chest.

People judged, pitiful stares

With a myriad of questions.

No sincere ears to merely listen.

No shoulder to lean on.

You go inside your head, but the door is locked.

You go inside your heart, but it is bleeding through frozen pipes.

So you block the background noise, the muttering voices

And sink into utter numbness.

I kept such an unworthy secret.

In penitent silence.

Like a convict,

As if I owed them anything.

When no one has ever made you feel safe,

You inevitably become immune

To pain, to solitude.

You get used to growing from the ashes.

Oftentimes, I open my eyes, and I am seventeen again,

Time has not gone by

And I am still looking for the key

To breathe the fresh air of liberation.