Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Slow

When a thing or two
goes wrong
you come face to face
with mortality.
And you realize that
death is not an eventuality
but a process ongoing.
Of the slow breaking down
of your body.
Tooth by tooth.
Nail by nail.
Curdling blood
and eroding organs.
Turning to nothing
and no one.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You've captured the idea of a slow death really well in this poem.