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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/779062-Morbid-Angel
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by Stitch Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #779062
I'm not sure
Silent murmurs fall on deafened ears
Tell me, Gabriel, am I dead?
My morbid angel, only you seem to know
I move, I touch, but I can't feel
Is their warmth to this place, or just heat?
I find myself surrounded by cold granite slabs
Am I in a mausoleum?
Whispers in the distance
I twist and turn, seeking the source
Even as I move, I stand still
I sleep while awake
And move in a daze of selfishly forsaken fools
My sweet morbid angel, I fear without thought of self preservation
How can one worry over the life of the unliving?
Am I already gone without leaving?
A shadow cast upon the ground,
Haunting the fetters of a life long past?
Speak to me!
I taste the rancid cling of each word
I must be dead, for no human being could endure this... this constant nothing
A void where once thrived dreams, memories, conscious thought
If I am mistaken, Gabriel, my unknown love,
Then strike me down
For nothing is as unbearable as a half-life
Among half-wits
and half-truths.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/779062-Morbid-Angel