Like remoras surrounding a great shark, Death too has company.
Little flecks of despair floating in the air around your body.
Desperate for their master, they harm you.
They can not touch a hair of your body, nor lay a hand on your shoulder.
Instead, they whisper.
Mean little thoughts, innocent suggestions that are nothing if not malicious.
Little proposals masked as questions-
"what if you did"
They can not push you off a building,
but they can urge you to stand at its top during a windy night.
They can not control your body to run in front of the hurrying cars,
but they can tell you-
"maybe you should"
Death has many little devotees, reuniting at the collection of your soul.
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 7:39 AM UTC
Like remoras surrounding a great shark, Death too has company.
Little flecks of despair floating in the air around your body.
Desperate for their master, they harm you.
They can not touch a hair of your body, nor lay a hand on your shoulder.
Instead, they whisper.
Mean little thoughts, innocent suggestions that are nothing if not malicious.
Little proposals masked as questions-
"what if you did"
They can not push you off a building,
but they can urge you to stand at its top during a windy night.
They can not control your body to run in front of the hurrying cars,
but they can tell you-
"maybe you should"
Death has many little devotees, reuniting at the collection of your soul.
