A Fate Worse Than Death
She says, “Be of good cheer. You are sick,
But not dead.” I look at her quizzically.
“If I was dead, I would not be tormented
By this runny nose, by the aches in my body,
The rattling cough. I'd be perfectly peaceful,
Supine on a slab to be drained of my fluids
Or pushed into flames. Though you and some
Others might lament my passing, I wouldn't.
I couldn't, and, honestly, darling, the end
Of existence seems somewhat appealing,
Compared to my illness and pain.”
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2022-06-08 at 13:26




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