Death is a visitor
Death is uninvited
Both phrases are in truth, similar
When will it come? It remains undecided
Afterall, who wants someone else in their home?
Who wants this rotten- ugly thing, with its arrival so sudden
That always travels alone
But leaves with someone?
A skeletal figure perhaps, cloaked in black,
A slow grin spreading across its gaunt face
Eyes cunning, soul abstract
Footsteps impossible to trace
Its victims are uglier still when they die
They may not be begging or pleading
But once their warm skin turns to ice
It is hard to believe that inside, they aren't bleeding
It is vicious of our guest to keep us waiting
When we all know it will come eventually
It is cruel of death to have someone so slowly fading
Or have them gone instantaneously.
Do our heartbeats speed up at its arrival
To make up for the ones the victim lost?
How do they feel to have that breath be their final?
How does it feel, I wonder, to have your blood freeze to frost?
Is that empty shock I can't remember
There because death doesn't want to be seen?
I guess, perhaps, it is better
To have not seen my family member leave.
Shock is death's cousin, guilt is a weight
Silence is everywhere, distraction a remedy
Death comes for all of us, it is our fate
It is the shattering of a thousand unmade memories
Pain is future, memories are past
Death is a God, it is knowledge, it is wisdom
To know none of us are meant to last
Growing up, I've realized I'm just another victim.
-Age 14