DeadlineA Poem by LolaYou are free from the deadlines that have once surrounded you. You're life dictated by a line awaiting to be straightened.You're lucky to die Slowly yet gracefully As the sound of the monitor sings you to sleep Electrical beeps that imitate your heart beat Ups and downs Scratchy lines Generating from a dull straight line Signifying your shy struggle Slows itself down as you lower your armor Flattening your heart Like it flattens its voice Deadline All that one's life comes down to Struggles, laughs, loves, and loss Lifelines Translated into flashy angular lines and lifeless beeps On shallow monitors beside our deathbed Reflecting off our eyes Anticipating its surrender Our lives, degraded Left in the hands of blunt machines The mere make up of their electrical construction Less technical than our lives will ever be Ingesting our mortality Turning it into depressing periodical beeps and screeches Until we are depressed no more Sounding itself, deaf sirens. Setting us free Of our misery It enjoys seeing pain Knowing that it itself, will never die slow and painful Made off a man's ideas and hands Mortal creates immortal Immortality is what we all seek The one and only savior of the dark. Celestial slumber in the hands of God you stay Vulnerable in the eye of all his merciful Silent screams and velvet tears Surround your naked soulless body Unaware of your liberation in the higher grounds of your despair You are more naked than you have ever been In the heavens above Free of judgement. Free of life. Free of humanity. Immortal. Your soul, now eternal. Your soul, now free from its rotting shell. Your soul, now free from the captivity of your own body. Your soul, a straight line. Shapeless, boundless, Eternal. No more deadlines Your scratches rest Forming a straight line Straight lines go on forever No start, no end Like the straight line you have become, Infinite. No start, no end You go where the heavenly current takes you In your new monument above Your soul, Now infinite. Immortal. © 2014 Lola |
StatsAuthorLolaAboutInto the messed up mind of a 15 year-old with jaded eyes of innocence. You, i write to you of what resides in my mind. more..Writing
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