Teach me how to fly

Sitting back in the corner, limbs getting cold.

Grab a blanket? Too weak, but not old.

Blood-sucking parasites sitting on the feet.

My gaze? It's called nothingness.

Not blank yet. One last hope if we call it that; yes.

Used to be a happy soul. And now . . . . Do I even have a soul?

Aaargh . . . who cares. Reasons? Decisions. They matter.

Mistake? I was not selfish.

Heart is gone. Where? With everyone with whom I've been .

That's all what's in my mind. Nothingness, if we call it that; yes.

It's getting colder, even bleak.

Regrets' all within me, my body yet feels so empty.

Hands are cold, for anyone to hold.

Leave me alone.

I have a corner and my body to lone.

The graveyards' near. Ask the dead to pick me up.

Hold my hand and make me dead.

Catching this cold from my frozen heart,

Let me get buried, beneath the cold damp floor.

Show me darkness, show me the worst.

Show me death by those killing birds.

My tongue is bitter, even more the heart.

Ask him to test, if you believe in God.

Miles and miles of my skin, full with fenestrations.

Self hurt, injury, suicide or whatever you may call them,

I got them in the war of self-conflict I guess, these are my scars.

This skin has decayed; through the fenestrations, I see my bones.

Nose is open, I smell my flesh. A pleasant one it seems though.

Ripping through me, comes my old soul

Meeting this acquaintance, feels like gold.

"I missed you" I told her and she smiled

I have grown, lived a hundred years, I tell her.

We hold hands, even words fall short when I say how happy I am!

Now is the time for me to die,

"Hey dead!! Under the ground, teach me how to fly."