MORBID RAMBLING
Death fills the air, the end feels near,
and each time it happens, dread is overtaken by habit.
It happens so often it numbs one senses.
One says, finally we get some peace but ..
yet, it's not supposed to be a good thing.
It's a waiting game and as the time passes,
care and concern isn't so apparant anymore.
Pain is normalised and grief isn't so apparant.
Now I question, when's it gonna be.
Now? Today? Later? Never?
Who knows?