I remember every morning

I remember all throughout the day

I remember like a warning

When the devil comes to play

I know it in my soul

I feel it in my bones

It almost swallows me whole

Collector coming for its loans

Voices form my thoughts

Debts I must pay

With stomach in knots

Running like prey

Unaware of the final result

Futile yet my arms stretch

I harbor hope like an insult

As I walk on the volatile edge

To live to die, to die to live

If I live to live, I’ll die within

And when I live to die

I feel most alive

But once I die to live

I’ll carry a grin

Author: Iris Sinclair

Death.

A rather ending word.

Everything ends with it

the light of one’s life is just obliterated out of nowhere.

Death.

A nothingness that awaits us all?

Or is it a way into a better world?

No-one has ever answered the question.

Religion has us convinced that after death only good things can come, if you are destined

for heaven that is.

And if you are not?

What guarantees us that there is anything after death? What if we just disappear?

Or what if we really do come back as ghosts?

Is reincarnation still out of the question?

Could it be that once this all ending word finally catches me, I will simply awaken the next

day as a bunny or a baby?

Ah, that death.

Author: Sandra Silaj

Tick, tick, tick, tick

Heart beating, thoughts running,

Pulse raging, brain shutting,

Legs shaking, voice breaking,

Thump, thump, thump, thump

Why did I say that?

Why have we done that?

Did I lock the door?

What will tomorrow have in store?

Did I remember to do the thing?

What purpose will my future bring?

Shut your eyes, count your sheep

Deep breaths, just go to sleep!!!

Inhaling’s easy, but exhaling’s not

Count your breaths, try to suffocate,

Cut the oxygen, make your brain sedated,

Pacify your mind, pacify your heart,

Try to keep your sanity, pacify the lot

It's 3 AM.

Still time

It’s 4 AM

Still night

It's 5 AM

I’m running out of time, I’m running out of time!!! Time’s up, time’s up, time’s up,

time’s...

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp

Time to get up.

Author: Laura Škalamera

A big leader,

worldwide fever,

power seeker,

fear dealer…

Their greed for power is held

in an hourglass, bottomless;

grain of sand by grain of sand,

it’s slipping away

grain by grain.

Their time will come

and they will turn to dust

before they turn into their own enemy

face to face in a mirror they’ll face

the hell they sow, the hell they’ll see;

in death they’ll see

their victims’ memory.

The pride is old,

the greed is mold,

the blood is red, not blue,

the finish line you cannot sue.

(Or declare war to.)

A man, a face,

a mask, a race,

Digging their own grave;

You can’t outrun what you’re running toward.

Is power that important,

to deem life unimportant?

Author: Lorena Vasilić

When fruit was bitten, and the heavens sought to them accost,

The firstborn son could not have known in wielding stone

How steep a price there was, a lonely threshold cross'd,

Denied and forced 'pon brothers both to walk alone.

Which angel, song, or light descended from the throne?

What solace could it bring to those broken from the whole?

To father, mother, brother who had first been shown;

That last embrace of calm is just for a mortal soul.

Oft' fire wanes and home is overcome by frost.

When Paris shot Apollo's bolt and hollowed bone,

Did only then Achilles see his partner lost,

Or did he burn in spite, because of what he'd known?

A simple thing, to flicker, fade, when left alone,

To make your peace with having seen your treasure stolen

But celebrate, and rage against the nightly drone;

That last embrace of calm is just for a mortal soul.

A brighter tale exacts a heavy, ceaseless cost,

To kindle hope through deed, and song, and word, and tone.

When history is written by ink with blood embossed,

Despair's a form of early end too often sown.

And fate is fair, as to the kind, so to the crone,

Whose sins too heavy bear upon an unending scroll.

To even those who cannot ever hope to atone;

That last embrace of calm is just for a mortal soul.

When the thread is spun, look back upon the garden grown,

And tend once more to smolderings of remaining coal.

When the moment's met, make final breath a triumph of your own!

That last embrace of calm is just for a mortal soul.

Author: Anonymous

It might come randomly;

While out in a bar

Drinking an overpriced cocktail

Imagining the idea of it being your last

It might come incredulously;

While bleeding out on the floor

Cold concrete becoming one with your bones

As you try to remember how you've come to be like this

It might come reasonably;

While kneeling on the dirt

Now hard and damp

From all the tears you've shed for the ball of fur

They will come;

The thoughts of the one inescapable thing must come

For what is the significance of Death

Without the everlasting and encompassing commemoration of it

Author: L.J.