by Mary E. Lowd
When I think about death
I feel like a child
Who doesn’t want to go to bed
Who doesn’t want a bed time at all
Why can’t I play video games forever?
I ask
Why can’t I play until I’m sick of them
And I’ve memorized every moment
But I never could
Could I?
The world is always changing
And I want to see it change
I want to be here for those changes
But dying…
Being gone…
That is one of the changes
Nothing more
There’s frozen, unchanging
Or there’s death
Those are the only choices
And it isn’t a choice at all
Just different flavors
Of the same thing