Death

What do you do 
When everything 
that is not pain 
is meaningless 
and life itself 
turns into a 
sketch book 
open to pages 
of horror and 
blank portions 
of distractions 
and fears just 
waiting, wanting 
to be colored in 
by a shaking 
hand. She hates 
what she does 
but does it always 
Baby, take this life 
away, burry me deep 
under the ground so 
that I can travel up 
into the sky, too 
much pain, no 
explanation.