The Death Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Death

I feel death climbing
-from toes to my head
- "Welcome, my pleasure."
-I say and feel pleased…

What the hell is cheap life
-to have or live with it?

Even if it may be
-to me, sure, means nothing…

Possibly I don't worth
-since don't like living it!

So, please
-please, please
-crawl in slowly…
-and bring end of me…

Did not know
-now may know…
- "I am too clumsy;
-am naïve and sissy …"

I am like a lover
-shyness is my fire
-am burning.

Hate to face, encounter
-the death when comes as pain
-in my bones and marrows
-in the nerves and muscles
-in my veins, blood-cells!

Most of all when removes
-my pride and conscious.

So, please
-please, please…

Come in but in sudden!

Walk in one direction
-from toes to the head
-give me time to write of…

Want to write about you,
-want to write about me,
-want to paint portraits
-of people facing death.

I want to defend you
-you are not some demon;
-not in its ugly way
-that some have explained.

What I hate from you
-is coming to ambush
-with traps around me
-and using IED…

I feel you everywhere
- am scared, feel fear
-even in teeth and gums.

Death
-as seen and defined
-must be a savor but…

You are not…

Please come by sending
-some person driving
-fast, too fast, speeding
-to hit me at the door
-on side; where am sitting
-let us get over it.

What is life when dead are
-pride and dignity…?

I do not call living
-such an ugly being
-dear death…come take me.