Swansong

The grim has finally lifted, I feel alone for the first time,
my unwanted host retires back into the shadow.
Oh what beauty surrounds me, is this real, am I dead,
a picture-perfect setting too pristine to be real.
An otherworldly autumn circles me,
wind caresses the back of my neck.
Blissful serenity washes over me,
as I listen to the whispers of the ghostly trees.
I'm dead and I couldn't be happier,
No misery, no pain, I'm finally free.
This, my suicide note, every twisted, frightening thought I once had.
Ink flows in sync with my blood,
spilling onto the forest bed, where I endlessly dream.
I'm dead and I couldn't be happier, a final toast to good friends.
My swan song for you all, please don't blame yourself.
A beaming blue-face hanging from a branch.
Spilling onto the forest bed. where I endlessly dream.