Dear Death

You always knock at the door of the young, it seems.

I am not writing to piss you off. Trust me.

Simply, I am curious as to your methods.

You show up, with your hood and sickle,

no warning, no audio (for the most part),

just a sickening silence and a beckoning

that nobody else but your intended can see.

Can one turn you down? Can one seek postponement?

At what point, if any, do you feel guilty?

For robbing families of their time together?

For burying hopes and dreams in caskets?

Whom do you negotiate with to let the bad ones roll,

and then have the good ones tucked in under your arm?

Remember, I am not writing to piss you off.

These are just some questions that came up

I lost the rock-paper-scissors game, which makes no sense by the way…

wait, is that how you pick your people?

Sometimes, your actions break more than hearts.

They harden people. They take away that flicker of hope

that makes one so solidly human.

Sometimes you hurt people more than they ever imagined.

Do you sleep at night?

Or do you constantly scan around for your next one?

We just want to know. If you can share…

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