A Plea to Death

Sweet Death, please forgive me.

I mistakenly thought of you intimately.

Your terrifying transformations

spur agonizing approximations

of how harshly grief will eat me.

Torture at the core of eternity,

breaking my hearts specifically.

Scarce souls torn again

after another lifetime’s end;

transferring my pain repeatedly.

This time, just be with me.

No running, no forcing, just ending.

After aeons of restlessness,

countless vendettas off my chest,

I need to settle softly.

A dripping depression I dare to conquer

without you, yet I only falter.

No need to erase my pain,

but take it to be slain

as a masterpiece on your altar.

I’ll never run away, sweet Death.

I’m only requesting a final rest

or a life shared with you,

my karma born anew,

banishing my past life’s mess.

It’s an ideal plea.

Sweet Death, please forgive me.

I mistakenly thought of you intimately.