For the people unknown to them,
some worry.
For those who are crying,
some ask if they're alright.
For those you see on the street, in need of assistance,
some help.
Then there's me, standing here, without a care.
I can see them,
we all can,
so why are there only a few who go up to them and say,
"Let me help."
They probably think I'm strange,
I don't participate when everyone is interested in the game,
I don't show up when I should, can never seem to do what they like.
Feels like I'm not one of them,
feels like I shouldn't be here,
they think I want to be a part of them.
But maybe I don't care.
Maybe I don't want to be associated with these fools.
Maybe I don't want that life for me.
Maybe I was just born to be different.
They hate me for not caring,
but I don't care.
They're saying, "Join in."
They're saying, "Conform."
They just keep talking to me,
they just keep bothering me.
They just won't leave me alone, why won't they leave me alone?!
If I stab one of you, don't blame me.
If I kill one of you, you deserve it.
"Leave me alone," I said. "Turn away."
You didn't listen.
So maybe I don't care if what I do doesn't please you.
Maybe watching you bleed makes me laugh.
I know that'll disgust you,
but maybe I don't care how you feel.
You could have listened,
you could have left me in my peace,
and maybe, maybe then,
just maybe,
you could have prevented this.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Death
Poetry"You kept saying that you would never die, that you would live forever. But here you are, and here I am. Isn't it funny? I'm here to take your soul. Did I mention, I love my job? Oh right! I never told you. I'm the reaper who will reap your life." B...
