Gravestone
What if I am killing myself
just to become something new?
What do I bring with me?
Will I miss what I leave behind?
Do I continue to punish myself,
or is there gold in the hills beyond?
Will my epitaph always read:
"Where you see X's in my eyes I see stars,
and a smoking hole where my brains used to be.
I feel hollow forever."
Beneath the stoney sun that blocks my eyes,
breathing elemental fire,
grey and lonely,
on this warpath,
I pray someday to say,
"that used to be my gravestone."









