Somebody dies.
Everyday.
Stabbing, beating, choking, burning
starving,
plane crash, fire accident, road mishap,
school shooting, boat capsizing,
bus falling into ravine,
bombing,
riot, massacre, war,
suicide,
or plain vanilla sickness and old age.
Somebody dies.
Everyday.
But what is glaring is
always, it is somebody else.
They keep dying.
Never me.
I am shielded by luck, or time, or
Death missing on purpose
until it doesn’t.
I can taste it though
as Death takes another body and piles it
on top of the rest —
a dollop of fear on my tongue.
Uneasily, I swallow it,
It burns the back of my throat
and as it oozes through the veins under my skin
it is impossible to feel alright.