The Dying Man Follow story

cody-gates Cody Gates

What would it be like to experience death?


Poetry All public.

#poetry #death #writing
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The Dying Man

I'm dying.

This is it; these are my last moments.

The air is thin and hollow, it's impossible to catch my breath.

My body feels stiff and hot, a thick pain I've never known before. Every muscle aches.

What do I do? What can I expect? Is there something else?

There are people around me, who are they? A brother, a parent, a love?

I know who they are but I cannot pull them to the front of my mind.

The room is swirling, blurring in every direction.

Their voices are growing distant, echoing screams.

"No." She cried.

"Please." They wept.

The haze is thickening, their pleading muffled.

I begin to seize, a piercing sting extending through each limb. My ears are ringing.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die.

The pain is growing, changing from a sharp stab to a deep hotness in my bones.

I'm getting used to it, going numb.

Lights, stars zipping through my field of vision. White clouds fogging my senses.

A falling sensation in the pit of my stomach, I'm falling backward.

I'm still here... where is here? I can see, but there are no shapes or colours.

I can feel, but there is nothing to touch, or ground beneath my feet. I know I'm still here.

I can feel my body moving, but there is nothing there. Nothing.

I close my eyes, but no darkness follows.

Where am I? Who am I?

There were others, but I can't remember them. A life lived, now a fleeting dream.

April 3, 2015, 10:48 a.m. 1 Report Embed 4
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aH alexander Hollins
interesting little vignette, but... its not poetry. No form, no meter, no scheme, not poetry.
April 26, 2015, 7:07 a.m.
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