By Barry Long

You will not die when you die, poor fellow.
God, how I wish that you would.
Death is not won so easily.
The greatest good takes the greatest effort
And your clamour is to live in peace.
Die before you die
Or you will be stuck with yourself
Once again.
I have found death
But as the hunter not the hunted.

Read more poems from Barry Long

Index of poets on Allspirit