A heavy blanket was my mother,
for just a year, or maybe two.
She wasn’t warm but kept me safe
it was the only habit I could hold on to.
Having died already twice
helps me see my third life into the eyes.
No weight in my arms, my feet are free
no voices in my mind,
except mine…except mine.
There is only one physical death
the only seen.
But if I live my life properly
I will die many times.
Sometimes I will even kill myself,
It takes pain, tears, and fear,
I have learned that this is the way a new life begins.
We don’t only live once
This is one of the million lies.
in our minds and hands lay tens of lives.
Change is their father, the mum is our mind
just give them some peace and time to make love
No voices of others, just music, and candles.
As I fall and rise
change colors, mind, and fears,
I look at the flowers with compassion.
I think, do they feel the same pain
as they change, bloom and fade?