I will admit, I wrote this poem a little while ago, during school. We read a poem called Aubade by Philip Larkin, and although I don’t remember if I liked the poetry or not, I remember thinking the rhyme scheme interesting. Wanting to try it out, I copied the rhyme scheme and the following poem ensued. It’s not edited or anything for the blog post; this is the original piece.
The air smells clean, an assault to my nose.
The walls are white, and utterly cold.
Through an open window, the cool wind blows.
I am so weak where I’d once been bold.
The machines promise that life has not deserted me,
But soon my soul will be set free.
Once had I promised not to die in such a place,
A hospital is where the mighty fall,
And in the height of life, death seems so small,
But now I accept death with complete grace.
And yet I wonder if it’s true,
If my life had been worth its time,
If I’d gone on stage and missed my cue
And so didn’t get my chance to shine.
Life is short, and I tried so hard
With every effort my skin was scarred.
Yet here I am, truly alone,
And I see what life could offer me
A chance to shine and make my plea.
For failure is a knife against the bone.
The machine hic-hic-hiccups, and my heart races.
I’ve changed my mind, I want to stay,
If I die, I’ve left no traces,
If I live, may Death I slay.
I cling so hard to life’s fragile grasp,
My heart slows, and I gasp.
My mind whirls; I can’t hold on so
My fingers grip on iron bars.
My last wish is to see the stars.
Please, I beg you, I don’t want to g-