A Better Place


A Better Place


Tell me how my brother who death knows so well,

came to visit me and covered me with shame, when

in a dream last week, he told me that I reek.


Him looking the same as he did the year he

went to the other side, made me wonder if after we

go, do we continue to flow in dreams by those alive?


Sometimes I want to choose to die, so that I’ll know where

I’ll go once I shake hands with death. Maybe I’ll discover

what I believe are lies about God aren’t that at all.


My brother floating around should be proof to me that

there’s another side where our spirits go, but something

inside of me refuses to believe what I perceive.


If it’s true that we live after we die, I wonder where

it’ll be. How long will it last? Every night that I lay

down to sleep I want to disconnect my brain,


because I’m in pain and have the blues. I drink some

booze and take some pills, but continue to dream of a

place that’s much better than here where there’s no fear.


I made a lot of mistakes, had lots of bad breaks. Life

has been cruel and full of despair, but once I sleep and

travel to that other place a smile creeps across my face.

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