I

I sit,
I wait,
I contemplate,
a thousand ways to die.
I live,
the past,
that soon outlasts,
the tears I fail to cry.
And soon,
my breath,
gives way to death,
and no one wonders why.
This poem has no votes yet.
To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.
No comments yet.