Attempt At Death Portrayal

When day has reached its final day,
And Breath has blown its final breath
I will not close my eyes before
The mystery that is my death.

Teathered neath an outward star
The wind below still coldly sways.
Well I am thinking death is due
When I am living old and gray.

Old and gray, and full from life;
Much time long passed, in child and wife.
But if death dare to take me young
Then all my days I shall forever run.

When freedom falls, when terror dawns,
When men beseige their worldly bonds;
Upon the hill of death's delay
Is where I spend my dying day.

Fair Death does not discriminate.
It's wicked ways will cause you pain.
So seek revenge if Death should find you;
For when you die, do not die in vain.

Well we will run as we see fit,
In fight or flight, great Death still wins.
The deep, distant ocean may well swallow me whole,
But in Deaths final blow he takes all but my soul.


*I wrote it on Benadryl, so excuse the inattention to quality. Or perhaps I'm just horrible about writing about death. Death is real; the realest thing there could be, next to life, I suppose. But I don't know what death is like. I imagine what I think it could be. Death is an action. An action self-inflicted, acted upon someone/something else, or witnessed. How many times in the depths of nights cloak have you wondered what death becomes? As for me, O so many at time do I dare question the only immortal entity that exists in existence. Death is Omniscient, if be there no God to take such a role. It need only know one thing: all shall die. I didn't fall of the rocker ladies and gents; today was strange. I ran over my own cat today, to be blunt about stating such a fact. I didn't see her sleeping in the grass, but as I reversed the truck to move some wood I felt and heard her all at once from beneath the truck and I knew... It was like a wave of shock, as much as she felt in that fatal moment, transpired into me, and my heart sank beneath my chest. She did not die immediately, and that is the horrible part. I must have hit her in such a way as the incapacitate her by breaking her spine, for she could not control her back legs. The pain was self-evident by the look on her face; in her eyes. This cat, that I picked out from the litter age two, this cat's life ended my the same hands that gave to her this life, today. I tried to reach the vet in time to see if the wounds were fatal. She died shortly before I reached the pet hospital. I drove slowly home and held my hand on her side as she sat silent and still in the passenger seat next to me. I asked God to forgive me for what I had done, even though I am not religious; even though it was unintentional; even though it was only a cat. This cat was twenty years old, and in one brief moment I reversed every year she ever lived. The toughest cat I had ever known; surviving nearly all of her offspring. A sprite, carefree, hunting, loving, loyal creature who only asked for love anytime we were near her. I will never see her again. That is death.
I buried her earlier today next to a cat that died a few years ago. The only thing I can think about is how it wasn't supposed to be today; like this. She would have outlived my dog, for christs sake. But she is gone, by my hands. I gave her no tears. I have no tears. Because everytime I see death I am caught in a dream-like separation from the waking and painful reality before me. I apologize for thoroughly depressing you with this, it was not my intention either. Now go and fucking give your cats some loving, and always, ALWAYS make sure the path is clear before you reverse.

Fuck.

-C