We are the only living things who know
That we will die,
and then we all forget it,
So we can live. When
friends and family go,
We’re wounded, but
we always tourniquet it
By saying: “That’s the rule—I’m the exception.
Everyone has to
follow it but me.
The whole world’s born to live a misconception.
They get a
lifetime; I get eternity.”
I’ll take my final breath on my last day,
Thinking: “Not
me. Not me. Not me. Not me.”
Hearing: “Yes, you.
Even you,” as I pay
The debt that’s
due to my mortality.
All that’s for
publication; but in private,
Deep down, I
know—I KNOW—that I’ll survive it.
Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells
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