Death may be easier now,
now that I'm losing the fight.
If I were still on a wave of success
it might be harder to enter pure night,
but failures have helped me worry less,
to a point where going seems right.
If I had enough cash to party and dine
and give presents to loved ones and friends
or travel all over this colourful world -
enjoy life again and again and again,
then death would be like a hideous fiend
just waiting to drag me down to its den.
But piles of mistakes surround me now
and memories are mixtures of good and bad
and even when chatting with those I love
a chunk of me can't stop feeling sad.
So, having less and less to live for,
my death may even be partly glad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poignance here but i note the creative wordings and expressions. Kudos. Live on. Nice to read u again.