Death’s Lake

She asks. Are you in pain?

I smile and say, no.

As the pain rattles, withering my soul.

When I’m asleep. I can hear my breath. Whisper, pain leave I don’t know if I can take much more.

Pity from my breath. Sad, mad. What should I be? I never thought of myself. A finder of pity.

It haunts dreams. Terrorizes nights. Tortures days. Destroyer of life.

How should death take me? At night? While I rest?

I attest. That be best.

Death’s a crucial creature. I see it not complying. Denying, simplicity, and ease. When it takes me.

Twisting me into an unconscionable state. Pain riddled. That’s how it’ll take.

Am I prepared? One could say. Death’s been seeping into my mind. Now I swim in death’s lake.

© Maurice Blocker 2020