Death

There are several ways to die.  Not one is the “right” way.  Drowning is said to be peaceful after the initial burning in your lungs and the terror at realizing you can’t breathe.  Or suicide.  Or accidental death.  Perhaps a good old fashioned aneurism. Too bad that for most death comes slowly and painfully. It creeps under the covers at the end of the bed and gives us bad dreams.  It causes our hair to fall out, our skin to become paper thin and fragile.  It makes us crap our pants and lose our ability to walk.  It causes others to talk to us as if we are little children and steals our privacy.  It takes away our home and forces us to move the little we can into a room like we had in college with a roommate we despise for being so much like us.  It makes us be mean and forgetful.  It makes our fingers curl up and takes away our eyesight.  It leaves us slight shadows of what we used to be.  But still it does not come.  Oh no, death prefers to wait in the corner laughing at our slow demise.  Waving at us, just out of reach.  “When will you take me?” we whisper, hoping death will answer.  We fear deaths’ silence.  We sleep and open our eyes to another day of longing.  Longing for what was, what might have been, and most importantly, longing for death.  Still it waits, breathing heavily in our ear when we aren’t looking.  When will death come?  When we least expect it or no longer care.  That is when death arrives, irritated that we have given up searching for it.  Mad that we have forgotten.  Then death slinks in, icy fingers lacing around our throats, lovingly cradling us, cooing for our love.  That is when we smile, looking into the eyes of that which we have sought.  Finally able to rest.

Death is a crafty bastard.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. thesubterraneanworld
    May 29, 2012 @ 03:57:48

    Well Written 🙂
    Blessings,
    -Naima.

    Reply

  2. Toasha
    May 30, 2012 @ 00:07:17

    Thank you Naima. I enjoy your writings as well.

    Reply

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