You will find yourself one day,
Confined within a coffin
Surrounded by everlasting nothingness.
Your lungs expelling life
In exchange for dread
So you recollect all the things you are thankful for.
You are.
You
You.
I.
Dreams
Life
Oxygen
Women
Death
Misery
Black
Words
Romance
Intelligence
The feminine
Your blood will start to cook
And your eyes will begin to swell.
Your brain will feel heavy
And you’ll recount your favorite songs
Death is death.
Then you’ll take a sharp inhalation
Of dry, busy air
And come to see that you aren’t confined.
You are blessed.
You have all those things you are grateful for.
Nothing is gone but the dead.
So why is death still death?
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