You're going to die whether you live or not.
All you can do is give it all you've got.
With each fleeting moment,
At least you can say you fought.
You can spend every last dime,
Before you get caught.
It's a funny thing, to get shot.
Not by a gun, but by the harsh reality,
That after all of this waiting it was for not.
Death is a ghoul that haunts us,
One that we forgot.
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Author:
MissileOfUncertainty (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2018 23:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: ridingonawave
Offline)
Comments1
Reminds of the lines from Rubaiyat.
"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend."
Divine remembrance which is often forgotten. Beautiful poem.
Thank you so much. I was up last night and death was just on my mind. And it’s such a hard thought to deal with. Not because I’m afraid to die (well maybe a little). But because I’m afraid of people around me to die. And I have a hard time comprehending death, and this a poem was born.
Thanks for taking the time to read.
-MoU
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