Death
If death cannot hear,
how does it always turn to the loudest of the living
when we try so hard to hide?
If death cannot feel,
how does it sense our warmth and seek to lick its fingers
and put out our light?
If death cannot taste,
how can it slip out its tongue like a snake and taste
our sick, tired, and weak from a crowd?
If death cannot see,
how can it reach inside of us
and stop our hearts?
If death cannot smell,
how can it prey on us like a wolf hunting down the fragrance
of spilled blood?
If death has no body,
could it be that it lives inside of us unfurling
growing stronger, closer with each passing day?
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