My Poems

Death

When you die,
it hurts.

Some see a white light,
Some see their
deceased loved ones,
Some may even see
complete darkness.

That doesn't change anything,
you're still dying,
and you're still in pain.

You may die in your sleep,
all alone,
or even with a thousand others.

But in the end,
you're still dead.

We all end up dead at some point,
buried in a wooden box in the ground
or kept in a locket on a chain.

We all live just to die...

Isn't that special?

You may think it's not,
and it isn't.
But some people think
death is a privilege.

To the people living with
terminal cancer
who know they won't survive
much longer,
and the pain is too much
to bare any longer.

To the elder who have
survived through enough
and can't keep up with
the rest of the world.

To the teenagers who have
had it with living another day
and don't want to suffer
with their inner demons
for one more millisecond.

Some times death is celebrated
and cherished forever.

Some times death is feared
and pushed aside.

No matter what,
death is inevitable.