*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*
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
*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*
Request permission to use this poem