I am in a different world
midnight blue and deathly quiet—
sound already a distant memory.
I know I am drowning
though I can’t feel anything.
My vision a complex of multiple angles;
at once I can look down and see my hands
and in their palms the universe
—dusty stars and strange white flowers—
that I will soon belong to.
Another angle assumes my face
and on it a smile I don’t recognize
—full of mystery and terrifying wickedness–
soon I know will be nothing.
Already a stranger breaths for me.
Crazy Pasta Child 