| Death |
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| With each new life comes a certainty of death;
Each day brings you closer to that of your last breath. How the ground welcomes you with open arms; Knowing there will be peace, no more harm. Thinking of those that sped the process a little faster, Though for the ones they leave behind; emotional disasters. Sometimes I envy the ones who had the bravery to go there, But I would not be that selfish to the few who care, And I would not give the satisfaction to the ones that hate me. There is a short poem that sums it all up perfectly: *"Razors pain you, Rivers are damp, Acids stain you, And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren�t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live." When the time comes though, I will not fear, Everyone must go through it, whether far or near. Will there be an afterlife? Or eternal darkness? Will I be in hells fire? Or receive an angel�s caress? Will my ending come in agony? Or quick and painless? Will I die surrounded by family? Or will I die alone; loveless? Into these questions and others; I sink in deeper, But no matter the answers, I still **�don�t fear the reaper.� � copyright 4/6/06 Melia Teka * A poem that I do not know who wrote it ** Don�t Fear the Reaper � a song by Blue Oyster Cult |
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