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A Beautiful Oblivion
June 23, 2015
The splash of the waves.
The heat of the sun.
The rushing wind through my hair.
and The hard sickness of plummeting down a long, rocky, cliff.
I can see it.
I can feel it.
The waves getting larger.
The rocks getting sharper.
My body, helpless, completely relaxed.
My mind, persistent, vigorous with thought.
There is no escape.
Each thought, useless.
Each breath, pointless.
The oblivion, is my fate.
The fall, my beauty.
The heat of the sun.
The rushing wind through my hair.
and The hard sickness of plummeting down a long, rocky, cliff.
I can see it.
I can feel it.
The waves getting larger.
The rocks getting sharper.
My body, helpless, completely relaxed.
My mind, persistent, vigorous with thought.
There is no escape.
Each thought, useless.
Each breath, pointless.
The oblivion, is my fate.
The fall, my beauty.
© Matt A., Smithfield, RI
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This poem is about falling into place. About the fall that is life and the oblivion of which is death. I wanted to make a peice to help people understand; death is inevitable, it is whether you decide to enjoy the fall or scream the whole way down.