Death Comes

Death, I scream loud under my breath, gripping me hard, this is not a test.

It’s hands cold and grimy, rippin my flesh, I’m slippin to far, I’m like an insect trapped in a jar, like a crash victim stuck under the car. I’m losing consciousness, gasping for air, for just a little breath. Restless, I fight to survive, it still knows I’m alive, it strives to keep me under, I feel it through my body, like thunder. I’m split asunder between life and death, can’t rest with the beast tearing at my chest. They should make a death proof vest, to repel sickness or death. I’m losing this battle as I fade into darkness, God help me as I become hopeless in this fight to survive, fingernails clenching the blanket of life. What about my kids and my wife, why must they suffer in strife, in loneliness, and pain? Have I more respect to gain, more sacrifices to make, why does my life - death have to take?

View jpstheophany's Full Portfolio