‘to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier’
i think about death everyday.
frightened by it,
intrigued by it
i cannot escape it.
i have seen what it can do,
an endless hunt after
anything that lives.
constantly wondering when
will i be marked?
when will i
be hunted
by them.
others embrace it.
death to them is a
blessing.
but how can someone see something so
frightening
something so
powerful
how could they see it as
beautiful?
how could they actually
want that?
there is so much to life--
yet so much more to death.
it is said that
how one dies, shows how one
lived.
and that those who run from death
stood still in
life.
what will my death say about me?
what will it say about how i wasted my life
with pools of sparkling tears
and butterflies that once sat in my stomach
pouring out of my mouth?
would people know that i
stood still?
i think about death every single day that i
live.
every day that will pass
every second every minute every
year.
every tear. every breath.
every sight. every look.
every beat of my heart.
every drop of blood coursing through my veins
every word i speak every
thought i think
i will think about death
i will run from death.
wishing that someday i can
embrace the beauty of it.
but until then, (if it ever even comes)
it will continue to be
run run run
chase chase chase
filled with fear and anxiety
waiting for them
as they lurk in the shadows of life
watching, perhaps laughing
at my fear of them at my
racing thoughts of
when why and
how