I fear you
Everyday
Every moment
You're a silent scream
always taunting me
You're unpredictable
Will I see tomorrow?
Will they see a tomorrow?
Why am I still in bed worrying
When there's a whole world?
I fear the last times
The last times I don’t even know are last times
My head takes me to places no one wants to go
You take them away from us
Anyone has the power to use you
We have to trust each other
But not too much
to avoid you

Dear death,
How dare you?

In class
When someone spots my bleeding thumb
Before saying anything to me
Thinking anything
They raise their hand
And say
"Mrs. S! Mrs. S! She's bleeding!

My head screams
"No no no no no"
As I walk to the nurse
What will she say?
What will she do?
Will she ask me questions?
Luckily she didn't
She barely glanced at me
And told me where the bandaids were
Phew!

I wonder what would happen if she saw how bad it looked though...

You are receiving congratulations
from people for your creations,
Yet you put me down,
and made me feel small to others!

You run in the early morning
and sleep well at night in dreams
I am warned for my supporting
while you leave me with your blames!

Waiting for something or someone
is so painful in silence...
You treat me like I’m stranger,
though we once had some romance!

I woke up with
A sore back, and
stepped in cat
***** when my
feet hit the floor.
I turned on the
radio, and My Favorite
Things was playing,
the John Coltrane
version.
It reminds me of
rainy July nights.

I make some coffee,
And check the book sales.
Hey, I got a couple in
India, and the coffee tastes
right.

I take it as it comes.
Black and true, like
Steinbeck's bones.
Don’t forget about the
goings of mice and men.

We humans
We love to compare and contrast
But
We often forget
We don't all have the same denominator

I don't know much about death
Except that it takes your loved ones
It is a big question mark
Taughting me
Constantly

I think
Our brains
Simply can't
Comprehend
That they one day
We won't be there

I don't know much about death
But I know
For some it might be loud
A gunshot the last sound they here
And for some it might be quiet
Alone in world with their last tear

I don't know much about death
But I know
For some it might be at age 6
A very tragic thing indeed
And for some at age 90
Holding the hands of their children
Maybe just as tragic

I don't know much about death
But with great sadness I know
That while some stay until they can't anymore
Some want to go

Death
Holds suspense, grief, and longing
In the palm of his hand
And he boasts it