Death

I know that people die

But I’m not convinced that it’s a bad thing

Or anything, really.

I’m not sure what being alive is

It seems to me

That your mind and body

Are not confined to this reality

Unless you choose to be.

I don’t get sad when people die

Because I remember them

As if they are immortal

Even if I wish I could forget them–

I can’t dream a single night

Where I’m not torn apart

By the choir of voices

Chiming in on my life

I haven’t forgotten anyone,

Ever.

I think we might be all immortal, anyway

No fountain necessary

Don’t you think it’s

Worse, in a way?

Unfortunately, death

Is not a clean slate.


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