Not to be

a grandfather
with precious

tiny tots giggling

eighth notes
near his

slippered feet.

Not to grow

old gracefully
in a rocking chair,
on his porch that's
shared by sunsets,
and a fatihful

love beside him.

Not to be

 a senior
in the class

of geriatrics,
Cancer steals

the dreams
and makes

the real truths
hard to bear.

So it's

twenty-four Zoloft

and a

long nap 
to turn 

him into
bones in

a satin box,
forever young

the souls
of other's

lives denied.


i do not believe

that one

should suffer

beyond their


when peace is

buta handful

of capsules away.






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Comments 1 comment

Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

What would be the point,

Of remaining in this joint,

With only pain to anoint?

I think I'll smoke a joint!

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