Doom Days

If you don’t acknowledge it,
You will die, and if you think
About nothing else, you will

Die, and if you live a long
And peaceful life, most people
You know will die before you,

Including the ones you loved
Or were proud of having known,
And if you live a long, harsh

Life in the teeth of hatreds
And hatred’s atrocities,
You may find yourself at last

The last among your people,
All the others having died
Already, and then you will

Die—so, which would you prefer,
Defiance or obsession?
You’ll probably choose neither,

Probably meander through
Your days until you begin
To fall apart, quite frightened,

No matter when death begins,
No matter if it’s just you
Or everyone around you.

Damn, but we’re imps, aren’t we all?
All your monsters and demons
Of hell are just dancing words

Prodding you with dire questions
Heated in embers of truth.
Poor creature. You don’t need truth.

Is there nothing words can do
For you, nothing sweet though true?
Some mornings, the sky is blue.