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The smell of Kent
Failed to bring me to life,
I felt almost nothing, kept silent like dead.
The poisoned blade
Of a sharp kitchen knife
Was bound to cut me, I dropped it instead.
It wasn't meant
To take place then, alas,
My memories, lurking, denied suicide.
My guise would fade
In a half-empty glass
And you would not even find out I died.
My swollen pride
Was revealed in my eyes,
Yet weakness was hidden behind my eyelids.
I stayed awake
To the gloomy sunrise,
It haunts me at moments when consciousness bleeds.
My other side
Is still craving for life;
These tough contradictions make up my true core.
Just one mistake
Fights the urge to survive
Or live ever after like never before?
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