A Thousand Deaths

A Requiem for the Living

How many lives,
How many deaths.
Each breath revives,
Each silence rests.

I die with every breath I take,
And rise again through every ache.
I die in sleep’s forgiving shade,
And fall once more when dreams fade.

Each morning robe, each opened door,
Each step I take — I die once more.
I leave my home, I face the light,
And death walks with me, out of sight.

I die in choice, in every flame,
In every shift that feels the same.
Convictions burn, directions bend
And every path becomes an end.

My heart gives in.
Love draws it thin.
And once again,
Death pulls me in.

I die for you — in thought, in lack.
I die when I hold myself back.
You’re here, I shiver. You’re gone, I fall.
Your very nearness ends it all.

I die beneath your softest smile,
Your eyes that hold the stars a while.
Your kindness carves me into clay
And death won’t let me look away.

I die when sorrow floods your soul,
I die when joy has made you whole.
In every win, I lose my breath.
Your failures crush me just the same — a quiet death.

Sensitivity cuts me raw.
But coldness leaves a deeper flaw.
Each moment, grief and grace conspire,
To light my bones with quiet fire.

My life — a march of open graves.
For you, I carry all the waves.
I die, I rise, I burn, I spin,
And tomb by tomb, I start again.

So many deaths,
Such heavy stone.
I die without a cause to name,
Without a fault I call my own.

What was my sin?
What law did break?
Why must the void
Call me to wake?

Joy and sorrow — blades that kiss.
And even now, in all of this,
I die again, I taste the sting
And still, my heart begins to sing.

It swells with fire, pure and wild.
It beats like death’s own child.
It knows the truth, the final verse:
My choices bloom inside the curse.

Even in a thousand graves,
My soul still walks the paths it paves.

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I die every day.
Sometimes it feels like whatever I do,
I die for no reason at all.

I grow in the soil.
I flow in the rivers.
I want to stand as tall as the mountains,
And I say this till my very last breath.

It’s not me—
Every day, somewhere, emotions die.
And I bring those emotions back to life.
In those dead feelings,
I pour the water of love
So they can be born again.

I die every day,
With every moment
I live and then let go.
And this life tells me,
“Amit, I bend all your moments,”
Yet still, I try.

This life takes hundreds of deaths every day,
And I honor each one of those deaths
Through the way I choose to live.

The open sky calls to make me its own.
Perhaps it’s been waiting for me.
The ocean calls me to drown within it.
Perhaps it’s been waiting for me.

And I bring back to life
The hopes that have died once more.
I bring them to life.
I bring them to life.
I bring them to life.

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