coping with newfound mortality

By mathuzala2zala

This is written from the perspective of the character drawn in my RECords 'Guardian Angel #2' and 'Weathered Angel.' I wrote the poem 'My Guardian Angel Has No Name' and in it I propose that perhaps my guardian angel merged with the demon that was it's compliment, essentially becoming a human.

This is him feeling what it is to be human after being an angel, unable to feel anything. Unfortunately the negative has overpowered the positive as he realizes what it is to be mortal.


I can dream now.
But I never dream of flying.
No, only falling.
Or getting lost.
Being chased.

The fear has kicked in,
finally.
Along with the pain.
Regret.
And loss.
The realization of mortality.

As soon as I felt hope
it went away.
I KNOW there's nothing left.
I KNOW what I'm missing.

Now that I can feel
all I feel is miserable.
To feel anything else
is a temporary distraction
from what is always there.
All of the time.

And time!
Oh the time, my friend!
How slowly the time passes!
Condensed to a single line.
Rush hour traffic
without the excitement of the car horns.
So slow, however,
simultaneously without
the time for the important things.
The only worthy distractions.

And I can only assume
he must be somewhat pleased
now that his misery has me
to keep it company.
A bit of misery amongst friends.

Yet I feel pointless.
Redundant.

Apathy seems a viable option.
A very comfortable compromise.
A forced ignorance.
A false sense of bliss.

But a waste of life.
Life.
Whatever that means.

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coping with newfound mortality

Created: Jul 21, 2010

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