TITLELESS
You think my job is easy,
simple even.
And sometimes your right.
When their time has come and passed
they are greatful, if somewhat nervous,
as I send them on there way.
When the pain overwhelms them
and they can no longer hold on
I may even enjoy it.
But when they choose to come to me,
because the hurt was so unbearable: a tragic end.
That is when my job stops being a kind injustice.
I ache in time with there last fluttering heartbeats,
those few ragged breaths.
It cannot be classified in such simple minded ways, this burden.
it is on those days, and they are often,
that my job becomes a thankless task that must be done.
No. The job of Death is not easy.
