Dying
I suppose that I should be concerned each time
That evening comes. Who knows how many more
I have? I do not care. The ones I've known so far
Have been dispiriting, their waking hours trials,
Tortures, nothing worth revisiting, and all the dreams
Which I have had between each twilight and each morning
Have been horrifying things. I can see no reason why
I ought to cling to what has hurt me. Death, I think,
Is apt to show up with its bony hand extended,
Smiling, saying I should let it lead me to a place
Of peace. I will. There is no point in clinging to what's
Been a wretched realm. I've never really liked my life.
When I can see the curtains closing, I won't quale.
I will not struggle. You may notice that I'm smiling
As I'm led away.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 55 times
Written on 2024-05-09 at 03:41
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Ingvar Loco Nordin |
Alan J Ripley |
alarian |
Griffonner |
Texts |
by Lawrence Beck Latest textsIncurably WhiteTrash Talk Song and Dance Temporarily Fine Aloft |
Increase font
Decrease