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Christina Jackson
Poems
Sep 2014
The fruit that does not grow
It lives inside of me;
eating away at the most
important parts of me.
To bear life, would be a
rare commodity.
I cannot turn death into life
These dying cells inside of me,
they keep breaking apart, yet
multiplying at the same time.
As frightening as it seems;
I do not fear death, but welcome
it as an old friend.
Death knows what's right and
what's wrong.
There comes a time when
death is insufferably wrong.
Sometimes, death gets it wrong-
Other times, incredibly right.
However, not often or rarely at all.
I am not going to fight, nor fuss
or try and figure out the cause-
It is what it is and I won't regret
the life I have lived thus far.
© 2014 Christina Jackson
Written by
Christina Jackson
29/F/FL, USA
(29/F/FL, USA)
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