Death Poem by Riley Choma

When we fear life more than death.

When breathing is more difficult than not.

It is then that we have grown the most.

We've grown to learn that the little things do hurt.

We've grown to understand that time doesn't heal all wounds.

When we no longer recognize the person across the mirror.

When pain becomes totally bearable because it's better than feeling nothing.

It is then that we re-evaluate what it means to live.

We want to scream, but we can't; the only screaming is in our skull, and we would kill to silence it.

We want to live but just breathing doesn't mean you live.

It is in the moment of this realization that we look to walk with death, the only thing that feels real.