If I don’t wake up, let me sleep.

If I never wake again. let me slumber.

So lay this body to rest

and put me in the ground,

because death is the only comfort I’ve known.

If tonight I breathe my last,

let me be remembered not for who I was

but for all I could have been.

And if the reaper comes to take me away,

I will put up no fight.

I will go willingly.

If this broken heart of mine

is broken beyond beating,

may I find peace on the other side.

My eyes are dim and my heartbeat faint,

for what life is there left in these bones

and in their marrow

that it should sustain me any further?

 

Prep the table and bring the patient in.

Ready the scalpel.

Ready the lookers-on for the procedure.

But there are no spectators here.

I am alone in the dark,

my stomach is churning.

The ringing in my ears

drowns out the deafening silence

as I prepare to drift away.

Administer the anesthesia.

Steady your hand as you make the cut.

If I die on the table

I have no one to blame but myself,

and if I live, what of it?

If I perish I will return to my home,

the place of my eternal dwelling.

But if I live, then I live.

Help me pick up the pieces.

 

Take this heart of stone out of my flesh

and give me a heart of flesh,

beating and vibrant, alive and clean.

Sanitize me and begin the surgery.

Make your skillful cut

 and remove the death from my chest.

How I am drifting out on the ocean.

I am weightless and free.

Surround me with your waters

and blanket me with the sky.

Tonight I am one with what is killing me

united with it by the pain

I no longer wish to bear.

Unconscious now I wait for the flatline,

that sounding trumpet

declaring my arrival.

I am numb and no longer feel the sting.

 

But you have different plans for me

that do not involve this life support.

You say the future isn’t bleak,

that the sun is on the horizon.

You say I’m where I’m supposed to be.

I can hear the alarm now

signaling my return.

But what if I don’t want to return?

Would you let me slip away?

I’m letting go with both hands.

I never had control.

I’m at the mercy of what I can’t control.

You show me mercy

as your blade presses against my skin.