Let Me

I am nothing but petty pity and woeful sorrow

A discombobulated woman, annihilated in entirety

A shadow in the valley of death, revoked of my basic right to die

One which lives in entire effort and yet still in vain

Cycling through the perpetual state of ambiguity in joy

Contaminated, eliminated by

The chemical composition of existence

Collapses into a faulty spiral of distance.

Nature was not so kind to grant me the proper mechanisms

In every moment, there is my flout uttered by silent shouts

That which creates the doubt in the meager century

If I live to feel alive, but if I know I am meant to die…

Who is to deny to let me?

Previous expressions were simply exceptions

To the thin nature of reality and existence

To say I should shoot for the moon 

Miss, and land among the stars

Is so cliché it can't even begin to sway me

The closest star to earth is 93 million miles away. 

Hope cannot be simply placed in faith

For when death strikes with his wraith

We are all the same fragile matter

We are together in how alone we feel

Prone to the same fear and sorrow

In which we hide behind a mask of lies

So who is to deny to let me die? 

Best,

Anna Belle Lee