The decision is already made
now the minutes tick away
counting down until the time
arrives at last to end a life
the decades borrowed are returned
unfairly hoarded without reward
sorrow pressed absent love
now the bill will be resolved
separation becomes the norm
practice for the coming act
perfection found without regard
to the sorrows afterward
with the end at last in sight
the reaper will find delight
accepting offerings none should take
upon the altar of final shames.
© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.20190409.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem