Coffee at my funeral.

on

 

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I sat with a cup of coffee at my funeral.

I watched some walk in,

I watched others walk out.

Loud whispers of, “She lost her mind”,

Louder chants of, “she asked for it”,

And occasionally, softer whispers of,

“She will come around”.

These whispers went over my dead body,

Drowned by a Nirvana sound track playing out loud.

Coffee on one hand, slow death by cigarette on the other,

I waited.

I watched myself, dead on the inside.

Your regular cliché; lost at twenties.

The wounds weren’t visible,

Shame hid the signs of trauma,

Materialized as exit wounds,

Blank ink all over my body,

razor blades drawn across my wrists,

With a cup of coffee in my hand,

I found myself fighting a silent fight,

Coming to terms with the death,

The death of life as it was.

I walk out of my funeral,

Bidding adieu to everything that life was.

I ash the cigarette on my right wrist,

Said goodbye to the body he touched.

I was freed by the death,

The death of life as it was.

It was a cathartic cleanse,

A second chance.

I had watched my funeral with a cup of coffee in my hand,

I knew who stood by,

I knew who walked away,

I knew the silent whispers of love,

And louder screams of disapproval.

I buried the parts of me that were broken,

Walked out with new rays of hope that

Found its way through the cracks in my soul.

I walked out of my funeral,

Born again to fight.

I embraced the tragedy,

 

I found it in me to let it go,

And let my soul rest in pieces.

The girl you thrust ideals of masculinity on,

Is dead and gone.

Not everyone gets to watch their own funeral,

With a cup of coffee in my hand, I did.

 

 

 

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