Fly High, Fall Hard
Here I lay in my cold bed,
cracked heart bleeding red.
Though my eyes remain dry,
they still search for the light.

Heavily asleep during the day,
I ask the gray sun to stay.
But it sets just to spite,
now haunting the night.

Stars illuminate the sky,
while carcasses underlie.
My dreams keep me in wake,
a fake state of blissful ache.

A simple trigger every now and then,
shows a chain of bad memories again.
I had flown so high, fallen so, so hard.
My heartstrings burned and charred.

Some things now fogged, some clearer than before,
as I've done heretofore, I gather the strength to deplore.
I think back to the fallen ones, their remnants lie in me,
encouraging me to swim, they drowned comfortably.

Jolted back to reality,
by a sense of finality.
I find a gun to my head,
the hand bled and misled.

Shaking hands, hesitation in my eyes.
Time has stopped as I swim in my demise.
Long-awaited tears stain my crimson sheets,
The day has arrived, cheeks marked with defeats.

The chamber is loaded, my heart is empty.
Reeled in by a trigger that really does resent me.
Into it my candid fingerprint is etched and engrained,
a smoking barrel a reminder of all that had remained.

In silence I'll cease to be,
only solitude meant for me.
Fell hard because I flew high,
nobody nearby to gift a goodbye.

© Mustafa Khan 2007