FicWad

Unsatisfied Death

So let the knife be blunt,
and the flesh rip ever slowly.

As I float away on a cloud of poison,
let me taste the blood
on my fingertips,
and allow me to feel the pain
of the cuts on my back.

If this is how it has to be,
can I see the angels mourn
and the devil grin?

When the time comes,
can I at the very least
wipe away the black tears
that are gently dripping down
the snow white cheeks
of the innocent killers?

Will I be permitted to
drink from the pool of despair
and spit on the flowers of happiness?

Can I bear witness to the pleads
of the fallen angels
and the children of the damned,
to their silent suffering?

May I watch as red blood
flows slowly along their arms?

Because otherwise,
is dying really worth it?