Death

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When did I finally understand death?
I remember being eight years old,
My grandpa had died,
And I didn't understand what was going on.
Now when I hear about death I feel so cold.
When did I finally understand what death meant?
Is there a certain age when we learn about the other side?
I never thought deeply about people dying,
Ceasing to exist,
Not until I wanted to cease my existence.
Funny right?
If I said it wasn't ironic I would be lying,
But death didn't make sense to me,
Until I was the one that wanted to be dying.
So I think back to when I finally understood what death was.
The first time I realized that I would never see a person again.
I don't even know how to begin.
I never thought about death as if it didn't affect me,
But you see, it hit me rather quickly.
Eighth grade.
My best friends brother died.
I couldn't seem to do anything,
I just cried.
The first boy I ever kissed,
All the things I think about that he missed.
I never thought about death,
Until it affected me.
Why did I think death seemed better,
If I couldn't live with the people I missed?
Four people in my high school years,
Gone.
In such a short amount of time, yet felt so long?
Every person I lost made it harder to understand.
Understand how living couldn't be wrong.
I still can't understand death.
Why it takes and takes and leaves everyone else behind.
What's the point to life,
If you can't be with the ones that haunt your mind?

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