Apr 2014
Unsurprisingly, I'm numb.
I suppose it hasn't hit me;
Then again, I'm emotionally thrifty
When Death swings his scythe.
So many people weep and wail,
Their arms flailing
As they cry and rail
Against the All Powerful.
Yet, I am empty.
I've been to funerals aplenty,
And I'm indifferent.
Death is inevitable--it happens to us all.
For me, it means a feast of fried chicken
And lots of finger lickin'.
I suppose it hasn't hit me;
Then again, I'm emotionally thrifty
When Death swings his scythe.
So many people weep and wail,
Their arms flailing
As they cry and rail
Against the All Powerful.
Yet, I am empty.
I've been to funerals aplenty,
And I'm indifferent.
Death is inevitable--it happens to us all.
For me, it means a feast of fried chicken
And lots of finger lickin'.
I wrote this a few weeks ago after the death of my great-aunt. Not exactly a fitting tribute to her as a person, but funerals and all the post-death everything is for the living, not the dead, so I don't think she'd mind so much. Plus, she'd probably laugh at the title. :)
