The Accident

Every day when I walk outside.

I wonder if today I'll take aside.

Should I cross the street?

Over to the shade away from the heat.

But, oh no, I could meet my demise.

My death seen from another's eyes.

No, I don't want that scene yet.

Don't want my photo to be a vignette

Upon a gravestone or memorial paper.

And all my family looks like their vapor,

The aura surrounding them all dark.

No one makes a single remark,

And silence would engulf and eat them,

To disappear later when their nerves are on the brim.

And then the crying, oh the crying.

People are prying my families just trying

Acting like their dyeing too.

My soul already said adieu.

But again I only wonder.

All of these thoughts are hidden under,

Deep within my mind where no one pries.

My smile on the outside just a disguise.

I'm nervous, paranoid and I can't help but think,

That everyone else is on that same link.

Should I cross the street?

Who knows what I could meet.

I may not be here tomorrow.

But tomorrows not a loan, it can't be borrowed.