Death Poem by John Yaws

This thing called life is highly overrated.
Some people seem to treasure every breath.
Not realizing everyone is fated-
To end their race confronted by cold Death.

Death is not a terror to the warrior-
In living we fight battles every day.
Decisions made in haste I've found are costly-
And scatter ruined relations all the way.

I do believe that I've had those who loved me-
In actions and in words, to my chagrin-
And due to pain inflicted by my treatment-
You may rest assured they never will again.

Do I care? I really have no answer-
At times I entertain the thought I do.
But when confronted by those tough decisions,
I always think of me instead of you.

So, life is but a quagmire of emotions-
Confusing and confounding at its best.
I somehow feel that death would bring some closure,
And possibly a little peace and rest.