Bated Breath

Here I lay with bated breath,
praying come to me, come to me death.

Release me from the hell inside my head,
with one nod I beckon you to my bed.

As I lay here curled in mortal pain,
there is nothing in this life left to gain.

Place a kiss upon my face,
For I am but a human disgrace.

I do not deserve to live,
for all I do and all I give.

It shall not be enough for humanity, for this world has no pity,
for a child born of apathy.

They tell me to end my sad life,
So I pray to death that you make me your wife.

Come to me and lay with me in my bed,
For I can not stand the crucible inside my head.

My body and soul are open,
Always secretly hoping

That you will see fit to make this my end,
so come to me my beautiful dark friend.

I wait beside my hospital room,
cloaked in a depression that has come to bloom.

I see such mortal despair,
And truly for all life do I care,

I see how man makes the rules and laws,
So that only those he deems without flaws.

Shall be allowed to sit upon his glass throne,
unbeknownst to them this is their tombstone.

So I ask again death what is the point of life,
if you will not make me your eternal wife.

By: Xanthia Dean.