Novel & Cerita Poetry About Dying Young

Where its waters ran red from the blood, now churned and raged as a deathly torrent; heavy in iron and decay, playing an eternal macabre symphony inside my head. I remember, as distinctly as if it happened yesterday, how the young warrior-no more than twenty years of age- laid beside me, his scared yet valiant face locked eyes with mine as he took his final breath. His memory clung about me. He had died entreating his last solicitation, hoping against hope—a cry for something that he could never have now. I found myself on my knees by him, murmuring under my breath some prayer to the old gods that his soul be at peace, happy in whatever afterworld there might be.

Not a seventeen-year-old sitting in a room getting handed a sentence like that during the first week of senior year. My mother had already moved on to second opinions, specialists three states over. I let the words wash past me. None of that mattered yet. What mattered was Gray, probably still waiting on a text back about first period, with zero idea what he was about to lose. I'd watched him carry his mom's casket when he was fifteen. Renata Locke, same disease, two years ago, and I remembered all of it from my bedroom window. The hospice van parked in the driveway. The way he just stopped smiling for the better part of a year. I knew, better than anyone else on the planet, exactly what thi

He doesn’t want anyone to die. “I.. don’t want anyone to die anymore…” He whispered, displaying despondency. “Life is temporary. You never know who you are going to lose in the next breath.” She sighed, leaning against the same tree, moving her knees upward to wrap her arms around it. “I know life is not assured but scant breaths are not favorable either. Who would want to die young?” He asked with a shrug, looking down sadly. “It doesn’t matter, short or long. Those who will die will leave the world. Those who will remain are going to suffer.” She mumbled the undeniable truth.

His heart ached as though it was going to rip him apart from the inside. “Lily, just hold on a little longer. I’ve already called every top-tier healer!” My parents, whose hair was now grayer than ever, nodded through their tears. “Don’t be scared, Lily. We’re here now. We’ll get you through this.” But we all knew the truth. I was dying.

She's kind of poetic, and I now have an idea where this one is coming heading, and I was right. "Zhanaia, I want you to know that life is a risk. Each of us is bound to die, though in different ways and times. Every tragic ending is not tragic at all, because it is not the ending we are talking about, but the memories we made before it ended tragically." ***** If not because of the eyeglasses I am wearing that somehow covers the dark circles under my eyes, I will surely look like a zombie, walking carelessly early in the morning in this silent street.

The grief of being weak as he waited for the evil men to shoot his family. His life fleeted before him and he was there spectating it all over again. "Life is ephemeral like the wind in a stormy day," he couldn't help but be poetic. With his words, in this mysterious place, a gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and blew with it the scent of spring, and it was immediately gone like a popping bubble without sounds.

I opened my eyes fully and looked down at the sweet child peeking sleepily up at me. "You hurted my daddy," Miguel mumbled in confusion. My heart dropped and I shook my head. I wasn't completely responsible for their deaths. I mean their father died in the stupid Iraq war and their blonde haired mother hung herself after getting the news. I dealt with death but not the way the individual died, that was solely on those fate bitches. "This is bullshit, let's go, don't ever forget about me little man, we will meet again in the future, this I swear," I growled. I moved him off me, patting his head sweetly and hurried past Maria cursing me while holding a cross up at me.

Her expressions were neutral, with no sign of pain or regret at this point. She couldn’t endure this pain now and felt like it was better to end it forever. There seemed to be no reason to live on for. No person to be happy for. No one wanted her or would be sad if she died.

My body is a hollow ache. And for the first time… I wonder if this will be my end. I cling to one thought, fragile and fading: Brynn… Frynn… But the darkness swallows even their names. And I am gone to the world.

The pain is getting worst everyday and there is no denying it any longer. My days are numbered and there is nothing I can do about it. After all, the blue rose sickness has no cure. It is a death sentence. I am going to die. I don't really like my life that much but that doesn't means I would love to die. I am still so young, I am barely eighteen in less than a week!! I DONT WANT TO DIE. It is a desperate prayer. Still I know better than to believe that a wandering God might just hear my wish and make it come true.