Death – we’re surrounded by it.
But it’s only our own that everything suddenly intensifies.
I don’t believe it’s fair.
Doing everything you were afraid to do on the excuse of death.
You should have had that courage when there was still life left.
There should be sincerity to follow consequences.
There should be more meaning than a careless goodbye.
Because we’re always questioning why we even live.
Unaware that maybe that was the whole point.
Find a purpose.
And if tomorrow never comes then maybe there isn’t any.
All I would be doing is wasting it – death.
A good friend requested that I “write like there’s death waiting tomorrow”. I know the title doesnt really match up with the poem. But that would have been my goodbye. It holds meaning to me.