Demise

If only the voice that screams inside, wasn't so absent from listening ears...
If only those who caused such pain, weren't so present in this state of mind...
They're too busy to hear!
They're too busy ripping...
Ripping at the throat,
of my first will,
Stabbing at the lungs,
of our very first kiss,
Tearing at the heart,
of what all came to be,
Twisting the arm,
of the thought, "let go"
They're feeding!
They're knawing at the last strand of will to hang on,
I can see myself,
I can see the sweat,
Collecting at my fingertips,
Forming my demise,
I can feel a slip!

...but then I open my eye's..........
and pray; tomorrow it'll be real.