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Leaving (not really a poem)

# Mon, 13 Dec 2004 22:00 – No comments

The world seems odd -- dark, fuzzy, unclear.
My brain is having trouble understanding;
to see things as they were.
I don't know why.

My body gets colder every minute,
every second that goes by.
The world's draining slowly from my sight,
getting fuzzier, darker. Colder.

A noise, some disturbance, awake my thought;
there's a spot I see, not dark as everything else.
It's coming closer, towards me, shining.
Filling the world with golden light.

As it nears me, I feel alive once more,
seeing the world clear and bright.
But only for a second, or less,
for then everything disappears.

Now all things I see is bright, shiny, golden;
every drop I drink is sweet as its colour.
There's warmth everywhere;
I no longer remember cold.

I feel peace. I feel comfort. I feel alive.
I think I'm dead.


[There's no hidden meaning here, or anything, so don't search for one. I just took a break from my studies.]

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* slog: Short for stupid log, a parody of blog, and a pun.