I'm not scared of dying
Far from it,
As I'm more frightened of life,
It tests one's mettle
Like kissing a nettle
Or scratching your eye
With a knife.
Life can be a ball ache
A never ending fight,
Only reaching some finality
After years of drudgery
Toiling and banality
Death suddenly
Extinguishes the light.
Once lay in the ground
Or scattered in the breeze,
My space taken by another.
They'll breathe my spent air
Maybe sit on my old chair,
Though we didn't share
The same mother.
A conveyor of flesh
That grows, ages and rots
Like fruit from a gargantuan tree.
Every life and death
Exhales a last breath,
And so, do we go anywhere after?
Well, let's see.
Phil Hall October 2017
Copyright:Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
Picture: Crapart by Phil Hall 2017
