The smell of Kent Failed to bring me to life, I felt almost nothing, kept silent like dead. The poisoned blade Of a sharp kitchen knife Was bound to cut me, I dropped it instead. It wasn't meant To take place then, alas, My memories, lurking, denied suicide. My guise would fade In a half-empty glass And you would not even find out I died. My swollen pride Was revealed in my eyes, Yet weakness was hidden behind my eyelids. I stayed awake To the gloomy sunrise, It haunts me at moments when consciousness bleeds. My other side Is still craving for life; These tough contradictions make up my true core. Just one mistake Fights the urge to survive Or live ever after like never before?
