Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2018
what’s worse than death
is not living life

we are eaten by the
trifling technicalities,
like rabid weasels
and assimilated into
the void of non-existence

and when the day comes
that our hair
has all turned grey
there will be nothing left
to die inside our hollow shells

death is not the end

but the beginning

our lives are just the preface
and we tend to skip over it
just to get to the good stuff

so when death
comes knocking
at your door with
a singing telegram

she’ll be disappointed
Rick the shoe shine boy
Written by
Rick the shoe shine boy  36/M/Couch to couch USA
(36/M/Couch to couch USA)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems