Poetry Day 305: A subject quite hard to approach

Day 305.

A subject quite hard to approach.

"Don't talk about it, you may face reproach".

Who cares? We are all going to die. Why should I pay for a life coach?

You there. In the back. Why do you find the subject squeamish?

You know you can't run from it. It doesn't matter if you have the calves of Jack Grealish.

Let's rip of the band-aid.

No sensitivity here. I am not administering first aid.

Do you know you are going to die?

It doesn't get better. Quite the opposite. It gets bitter.

Be it by gunshot wound like John Lennon.

Or stab wounds like Gaius Julius Caesar.

Although some deaths cannot be associated with popular people, like a seizure.

Or can it? It doesn't matter.

You'll cease to matter when you're no longer living matter.

I doubt I'm the only one who finds this funny.

One might wonder why I treat a delicate topic like this with such contempt.

Then again, who cares what I think?

Therapy would be good. That is if I'm not screwed over by the shrink.

Pay for a listening service instead of doing you the disservice of listening to me.

I'm trying to wrap this up.

It's been hard. No cap.

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