Death, to the wild ones and things.

I used to be the one to go,

now I’m the one that stays

I was always ready like Freddy

My suitcases never quite unpacked

temporarily rested near the door

patiently waiting to pass Go again

I never asked or received keys,

To the front door

A useless waste, when I knew

I’d be leaving again soon

I never settled

I always blew like chaff

whichever way the north win led

or even the South, East and West

little mattered,

but that I was on the move again

 

Stopping meant death.

 

so I only ever briefly paused

and then quickly pressed play again

but always moving requires fuel

inevitably, I ran out of gas

suddenly I had stopped

and there was nothing I could do

nowhere to run

somewhere to stay

 

my worst nightmares couldn’t possibly

have prepared me for this

being the one who stays

the one who watches everyone go

while she herself is detained

permanency means facing reality

thinking up long-term solutions

it means structure, uniformity and organisation

It means death.

Death, to life

Death, to freedom

Death, me before you

 

Death, to the wild ones and things.

             R. I. P.

herein lies the demise

of a once care-free person

who always went

but never stayed.

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