I am sick of You and Your petulant ways
Taking mercilessly without warning
From a queue which makes no sense to me.
Is it so very hard to take from the eldest?
To give a little time to say goodbye
before they leave this earthly plane?
Is it simply too difficult for you to leave
Children, young fathers and
I find You disorganised and
Your sense of chaos brings my world
Crashing to its feet
While those I know and love
Beat their wings against
An invisible breeze
That comes from within and without
Is it cruelty that makes You so?
Or simply a disdain for the status quo of
Peaceful. Family. Life.
I am sick of You and Your petulant ways.
She was 41. My friend.
Mother to two children that I know
Almost as well as my own.
I am told that I should be friends with You, oh Death,
But let us be quite clear
You are not welcome. Not today.
I am sick of You.
- July, 2015