Dying. Poem by love anover

Tonight, I’ve been thinking.
How would I look like - dying.
Smiling?
Frowning?
Worrying?
Screaming in pain?
Or
Just a poker face with colorful paints on it?
Along with a costume so vibrant and psychedelic…

Reds…
Whites…
Yellows...

Blacks…
Blues…
Or greens…

And pinks?
Tonight, I am thinking.
Is dying part or one of my fears?

Yes.
For my tolerance in pain is so little.
And I am afraid I would want to cut my life shorter to its phase.

No.
For I know in dying, I will see…
GODS GRACE AND LOVE OF ME.

826pm
september15,2007
the loft
quezon city