The First Poem by Kara Dawkins

Sometimes I wonder
Whether it is better to die your lonesome death
Or live as though you've been dead a while,
While people gaze at you
And the rigor mortis stiffens your soul,
With people smiling upon your dismay
Without even knowing,
People grieving those they've lost by graves
Without seeing the corpse mourning beside them,
As the isolation of your own company drains you,
Until ultimately you do die
Whether your eyes are open or not.