“I don’t want to die”

(Sometimes I think I don’t want to live
and that is when I’m not here)

I pour coffee
I buy flowers
I look at the lights
I wander

I lie down
I cry

“I don’t want to die,” I say
while I nervously roll
a strand of hair around my finger

“I don’t want to die,” I repeat
while I drift off to somewhere
I’m not

“I truly do not want to die,” I say again
while I chew my fingernails
and then spit them out

“I still don’t want to die,” I say
while wishing I did

It’s the biggest dilemma of all;
dreading the fall
but not being able to stand tall

I don’t want to touch the darkness
even though I often cringe at light

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