breaths become labor eyes empty of joy’s last tears fears with each heartbeat the cloth of humanity torn away by war has left us all ignored naked beasts lost in the darkness of life
there’s a time to die
we may not choose the hour
but we decide how
curled into a ball of fear
or defiantly to angst
but we all will die
there’s no miracles for death
only vague offers
of rewards and wonders for
our repentance for life’s sins
that doesn’t ease death
but shields us from some questions
we refuse to ask
there’s no need to spell them out
you’ve heard them a thousand times
that is not the point
it is more about how we
face what’s apparent
the presence of our own death
and how we play our last cards
Read Between the Minds 